Ascendency: Numeria after the Iron God
by davidthomas.devine
Summary: Bliks, a powerful mage, fresh from defeating Unity's threat to Numeria, continues her journey with fellow veteran adventurers Hex and Eryno, as a new threat emerges to the north. Long had Numeria's leaders ignored the Worldwound and the Mendevian Crusades trying to contain it, but now, under their leadership, they would face a new demonic incursion that threatened all of Golarion.
1. Codas 01-05

His body had barely begun to recognize it was dead from Hex's gunshots when she cast Disintegrate on it. 'No point in making it easy to bring him back', Bliks thought, dipping her toe into the dust that oozed out of the clothing of the former Black Sovereign.

Looking up and across the large chamber filled with panicked guests and now hesitant guards, she was glad she had been able to convince her companions to take this necessary next step. Hex had opposed her, but that was before, and he had been right. Unity posed the greater threat and Bliks had been blinded by the opportunities for a future that, had its plans come to fruition, would have been cast aside as the dust was just now being scattered by her Fickle Winds.

But now that the head had been cut off, the resulting infighting of the Kellild tribes in an attempt to take up the mantle of Black Sovereign would weaken Numeria, and with all of the threats on her borders, this was something she could well not survive. Bliks mused on that for a moment, an impotent arrow arcing across the room from some brave guard not even catching her attention. Eryno began to defensively step in their direction, but the roar of Hex's pistol silenced that resistance. Had she managed to stir up unrest on the borders, against Hex's advice, it could have gotten out of hand. She smiled; Hex would make for a good Black Sovereign.

An offhand wave and she completed yet another spell she had prepared hours earlier, having barely scraped the depths of her ability to not only assault the castle but to deal with what token defence could be mounted before they slew the Black Sovereign Kevoth-Kul. Her voice now magically amplified boomed unnaturally evenly across the room, catching everyone but the Torch Bearers off guard; her companions, the pistol wielding Hex, Eryno our scout and bodyguard, and the spiritual twinned healer Ve'Dien, knew the general points Bliks was going to bring up, but not the specifics.

"The Black Sovereign is dead. The Technic League has been shattered. And the Gearsman Unity who dreamed itself a god, who directed the attack on Starfall from its lair in Silver Mount, has been destroyed." She opened with; the first were indisputable but even the threat of the last was little known outside of a few. That was going to change, as were many of the secrets the Technic League had held.

"Kevoth'Kul was a good man, seeking to make Numeria into the empire that we were poised to be before the Fall of Sarkoris, when demons came to our world. But he was murdered long before today by the poisons of the treacherous Technic League. We all know that it was truly they, not Kevoth'Kul, who have been ruling Numeria for years. With their leaders dead, their base of operations blasted into ruin, and their members fighting amongst themselves, it is now that we must seize Numeria back for ourselves."

"For they hid from us the truth, that we are two people. Kevoth'Kul came from one of our people, the hearty tribes, whose bravery and strength are renowned across Golarion. But the corruption of the Technic League blinded him, and you, to the second people that we are; those of us, like me, who seek to understand the secrets that were gifted to us after the Rain of Stars."

"The Technic League failed because they were cowards and did not see the two people that we are. They sought strength only for themselves, using it to dominate the tribes. But all they did with their supposed strength was to bicker amongst themselves and keep us from becoming who we truly should be, the greatest nation on the face of Golarion. For we are two people, one people hardened by hard ways, one people enlightened by hidden truths."

"Even after centuries the Technic League could only repair what they found; they were scavengers, picking at the surface of the secrets given to us by the Androffans, whose ruins we still inhabit. But I propose a new way. For almost a year now I have been leading followers of Brigh centered in Torch to unearth and master the vessel that crashed there and now with the dangers of the Silver Mount tamed, our research can expand greatly. But the two people of Numeria must cast aside old ways. The tribes must not punish those who seek to explore the ways of the Androffans out of fear of the unknown and the technologists must not seek to dominate the people of the land through the secrets they have found."

"And the technologists will not be the only people to benefit, as they will bring new medicines, weapons, and even allies to our fellow people in the tribes. Gearsmen will not merely be repaired, but built whole and new, to fight alongside our brave warriors. Weapons and armour crafted from skymetal will flow freely to those who need them, and we will craft great tools not only for war but also for peace. Life will spring from barren lands and we will be the envy of all other nations of Galorian; the jewel in the north. We will bring war, not just defence, against the demons on our border, and with the strength of one people and the insight of the other, we will bring an end to this Age of Lost Omens, ushering in a true Age of Glory, the Age of Numeria."

'It was a start', she thought. Not everyone would listen and not everyone would benefit, but the die had been cast; there needed to be change in Numeria as she and her companions had toppled the twin pillars of the Black Sovereign and the Technic League. Perhaps they could import the philosophy of Common Rule from the Republic of Andoran, keeping the Black Sovereign as the head of the military and creating two councils, one composed of the people the other of likely reluctant technologists, to write new laws and administer the hopefully burgeoning nation. For certain they would have to get technical expertise from the engineers of Alkenstar, even if they were working the technology problem from the other, perhaps more grounded end.

But the Androffan genie was out of the bottle and Bliks would be damned if anyone tried to stuff it back in. The Technic League had tried that and gotten nowhere. She looked at her hands, hands that had helped craft so many spells over the months of adventuring with her companions. Those hands would now be put to better use, as magic benefits only the few and the local, and what she sought to create, would transform a nation, and in time, a world.

Looking in the mirror was still difficult for Bliks, because what looked back at her was not who she remembered herself to be. The shape was still there, but the content had all changed. Gone were the sparkling eyes that so enthralled her father and the silvery blue hair that had attracted so many questions in the past, replaced now with solid orbs and an almost alive shock of wires.

Her inattentiveness and faith had bought this appearance. The former from an either skilful or lucky Red Mantis assassin who had struck as most of the unfortunate things that had happened to Bliks had struck, when she had become separated from her companions. She didn't even remember the fight, but her fellow worshipers of Brigh had told her that it must have been brief, as it took them so little time to run to her aid only to find her incapacitated.

And as for her faith, instead of making her whole again through mere divine magic, the local church had concluded she needed to become closer to their and her god, the clockwork god, the god of living machines, and so integrated machines into her flesh. It was an uncomfortable choice, but a wise one she had finally settled upon; how better to know your god than to share in their form? And it had been pointed out her companions were both closer to Brigh, one being an android, perhaps the pinnacle of form in the eyes of her church, the other being quite willing to augment himself to the very limit his mind and body could handle.

Still, looking in the mirror was difficult.

She thought of Hex and Eryno, wondering in which particular corner of Numeria their adventures had taken them to; Ve'Dien, on the other hand had gone off the grid, vanishing deep into Silver Mount on some personal quest she refused any assistance on. There was the initial power struggle that they had all participated in, eliminating the remnants of the Technic League, their allies, and allies of or pretenders to the throne of the former Black Sovereign. And though he was not a Kellid, Hex did fit the model of the stoic even laconic Kellid leader, and after some squabbling over succession rites most of the tribes were brought into the fold. Usually all it took was showing the decadence and waste that Kevoth'Kul had fallen to and presenting both a capable leader and a neutral choice; no need for blood to be spilt when there were enemies aplenty.

Yet as much as she wondered where they were, she was glad of their absence. The link that they had used so successfully had started to invade her thoughts. When she asked the two of them about it, they didn't mention any odd sensations, and if anything, their tandem fighting had improved, with Hex striking weaknesses that only Eryno could have spotted, and Eryno sidestepping Hex's gunfire to great effect and surprise of their enemies. Perhaps she was just more sensitive to it then they were, but when they were near she could feel this constant hum of background noise, her vision occasionally clouding with overlays of what they were seeing, her hearing echoing with her own voice when she spoke to them.

But if she was needed, she heeded her Black Soverign's call. Most of the problems of Numeria could be managed through simple answers, a stout sword, or at the end of a barrel, but for negotiations, technological barriers, or just pure arcane power, Bliks was glad to see a change from the bureaucratic day to day managing of a kingdom.

For all the boredom, there were moments of enjoyment. Seeing the Kellid tribes take up skymetal arms and armour, even if they refused to use the powerful Androffan artefacts, was a warming sight; the few tribes that hadn't be persuaded by the former Black Sovereign's bad behaviour were brought over with these formerly restricted gifts. And while there were still many mysteries hidden in Silver Mount, it and other sites had been opened to exploration by adventuring companies under the careful watch and support of the priests of Brigh; no one wanted to see the release of some horror that had been kept in stasis or the vaporization of the company, the ruin, and much of the surrounding countryside.

Some argued that they were acting no better than the Technic League, preventing the free flow of technology, but there was much that needed to be understood and in that lack of understanding, unknown and unknowable dangers to be met. Indeed, many of the same guards and guardians protected the various starship debris sites as during the Technic League's day, with the same violent response to unauthorized visitors; there were just more authorized visitors.

The Age of Numeria had not yet dawned, but she could see the first glints of sunlight on the horizon. The wilds were still wild but with fewer robotic horrors, their numbers thinned by greater understanding of both their communications and repair which in turn bolstered the ranks of the Numerian army. The land was still reluctant to be farmed, but gave way with the introduction of both new means and methods but also of new, specially designed crops, care of Androffan databanks. And the two peoples of Numeria, the inquisitive seekers of technology and the hardy plains tribes, had at least a kernel of respect for one another's strengths.

Bliks looked into the mirror again. Perhaps someday this will be how all Numerians see the world, not just that which they were given, but that which they chose to make of themselves. She ran a hand through her hair. Though they were wires they were as smooth as her hairs had ever been and she delighted to see them shift and shape themselves to reflect her thoughts.

She decided to make a point to spend more time with Hex and Eryno. They had embraced the link. Now it was time for her to do the same.

The blast that issued from Silver Mount a week ago had caused quite a panic in Starfall. That unnatural mountain of metal that jutted out of the ground, the largest, mostly intact star ship that had grounded itself so many centuries ago, had been the Divinity. While it had been over a year since the mad AI Unity had launched its attack on the city, the people of Starfall still had lingering concerns about any unusual activity from their looming neighbour.

What concerned Bliks wasn't the blast, but where the blast had occurred; secondary engineering. This was the area that had allowed access to the interior of the Divinity, but more worrisome, where Unity's overlord robot had been preparing to launch a shuttle into orbit as part of it's plan to forcibly convert all of Golarian. The guards at this level hadn't reported any unusual activity but were now not responding to her commset. Having grabbed a pair of magnification goggles, she rushed to the roof of the Palace of Fallen Stars, and caught the barest hint of a contrail followed by a sudden if distant burst of light.

Something had been fired from the Divinity and, as she subsequently learned from robotic observers around the city, had exploded high above Numeria. And to top it off, the guards at the engineering entrance had finally reported in, claiming that there were three people, all claiming to be Ve'Dien, in their custody.

All of this had come at an inopportune time. While Hex and Ernyo were in town to meet with the Tribal and People's councils, taking care of much of the day to day hassles she often had to manage in their absence, Bliks herself had been doing some delicate technological experiments as well as the arduous task of creating a Numerian military. Prior to Hex's administration, their nation's defence had been mainly orchestrated through whatever tribes the Black Sovereign could control or directly through the mainly robotic forces of the Technic League, but any weakness in the Black Sovereign or infighting in the Technic League could easily divide them. What Bliks determined Numeria needed was a professional army, and creating such an army, let alone working out its funding and political considerations, had been a balancing act that didn't need unknown factors to be thrown in.

And while the Ve'Diens weren't a political consideration, the blast threw her negotiations into disarray. There were calls for increased patrols over the surface of Silver Mount, and opposing calls for either shutting down all access to Silver or sending the nascent army into the Divinity to ensure complete control, regardless of the risks involved. So it had taken a week of concerted effort, backroom conferences, and late nights to smooth over ruffled feathers, calm frayed nerves, and return Starfall to a relatively calm state. Only then was she finally able to meet with the Ve'Dien trio.

Bliks had ordered that they be ushered to the Palace of Fallen Stars under a shroud of secrecy and given rooms far from the circulation of the general staff. When she finally did sit down with them, she found their tendency to finish each other's sentences and handing objects to one another without looking or asking, both fascinating and unnerving. And while they all looked like Ve'Dien, she had been merely a human, and now there was both an android and translucent cloud versions of her.

"It's so good to see you again Mistress", the android said. The android looked just like Ve'Dien, save for the faint tattoo like circuit tracery on her skin, but dressed as she had done when she had been Blik's personal cohort; a many pocketed long coat, with tools filling those pockets and spilling out across bandoliers and hanging from belts. She had been Bliks' personal confessor of inventiveness, an emissary sent from the Temple of Brigh in Torch over two years ago … and had died at the hands of Furkas Xoud in the Choking Tower.

Bliks shifted in her seat. "I'm sorry I had to keep you waiting so long, there were … affairs of state that needed my attention."

The human Ve'Dien smiled. This was the Ve'Dien that Bliks had remembered most recently, the one that had disappeared into the depths of Silver Mount, that she had presumed had died. Her garb was far more daring, a form fitting white and red jumpsuit of Androffan technological armour with added flared sleeves. "We understand, the rise of the herald must have been disturbing."

"The herald?", Bliks blinked in response. "You mean that shuttle?"

"Oh yes." This time, the translucent Ve'Dien spoke. Bliks knew that it wasn't merely a vapour or a ghost, but a cloud of nanites holding themselves in a humanoid shape. The shape, while clearly representative of the human Ve'Dien, appeared to be more clockwork in profile, and Bliks could see internal workings, shifting, ticking, and ratcheting against one another. She had seen the clockwork automata of Alkenstar City, but never seen through one before. "Before events proceed, our goddess will need a new herald."

Bliks mused on this for a moment. While Ve'Dien had once been a priestess of Brigh and this translucent creature clearly had the shape of her holiness, the human Ve'Dien had seemed to have given up her faith for something more spiritual.

"Why would the Whisperer in Bronze need a new herald? What is there that couldn't be protected by the Latten Mechanism, advocated for by Karapek, or created by Salometa?"

"Mistress," the android said, "you yourself spoke of a new era, which you seek to start as flint sparks a fire. You called it the Age of Numeria, but it will not be what you think, it will be not an age for any one people."

"And so the goddess called to Casandalee," the human Ve'Dien continued the android's thought, without a pause.

Casandalee, the android who Unity had sent forth centuries ago, who had abandoned her master to seek freedom, and who, before her death, copied her mind into a matrix. And whose body, after her death, had transformed itself into Bliks' friend and ally, Hex.

The translucent one said, "And we were both her guides along the path and the trail markers she left behind."

"There will come a time," the human one said, "Where you will feel the need to choose. To choose between flesh and bronze. Others will not even see it as a choice. They will be either flesh or bronze and will broach no encroachment of the other."

Only now did Bliks realize that the android had stood and was resting her hands on the human's shoulders. "Mistress," the android said, "you must be the lock, the gate, and the key."

The suddenness of the descent into imagery took Bliks by surprise. Looking around she saw the lights in the room had unexpectedly dimmed; years of adventuring immediately kicked in. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. She stood with a jerk.

The three Ve'Diens had started to merge. The android's arms were now deeply sunk into the human's shoulders and those two were now shrouded by the translucent one's shape, itself both digging into and taking gear shaped pieces bloodlessly out of the human's body. They spoke with one voice, a grinding and screeching of gears just before they sheared off, "Open the way to eternity. Or howl in the dark. Howl in the dark. HOWL IN THE DARK." The room now seemed to slip out from under her feet, and she called forth a simple spell of displacement, something to get her out of there.

But she did not move. And the room did not move. And the lights were not dim. And the Ve'Diens were gone.

"Technician Volgeling, there appears to be a problem in my chain gun ammunition storage." The metallic voice hummed through the warehouse. It appraised the technician with its singular glowing red sensor cluster.

Bliks sighed as she turned to face the Annihilator Robot. The large scorpion shaped robot towered over her, its skin a uniform black excepting where Bliks had had to make an incision in its armoured plates. This was the second one she had refurbished and seventh in the Numerian army's arsenal.

"Ex a you four un seven, before I resolve your weapons diagnostic, would you answer a question for me?"

The colour of XAU-4-UN-7's sensor cluster wavered slightly, shifting from external consideration red to internal processing green and then back to red again. Bliks wondered if, in those moments, the massive robot was actually blind, shutting off a visual feed so as to devote all of its processing to something else.

"Unless the question has to do with my ammunition storage, answering your question now would be tactically unsound."

"Your model always seems to be focused on threats, has anyone ever told you that? Oh, sorry, that's not a question, or it is, but it's what we call a rhetorical question, you don't need to answer. I mean it makes sense, you are designed as a frontline combat robot, but I would have hoped, that after so many years … " Bliks trailed off.

"If answering your question will result in you resolving the problem in my chain gun ammunition storage, I will answer it."

Bliks heard a distinct clicking from somewhere off to her left, like a series of knives being tapped into wood. The blue glow of TAU-3-UN-46's sensor dome revealed its presence before it pulled its bulk out of the warehouse's gloom. A thin spotlight shone out from that dome, illuminating parts of XAU-4-UN-7's frame, panning over it in an obvious search pattern.

"There's no problem Tau three un forty six. Ex a you four un seven is just wondering about its new ammunition load."

TAU-3-UN-46 looked considerably more alien than its military counterpart. Built as a combination field technician and robot overseer, the Director Robot had been assigned to this warehouse before the overthrow of the Technic League, mainly managing smaller robots and human workers in inventorying robotic parts. A bulbous body mounted on top of four spear like legs, it looked out on the world through a dome on top of a cylindrical housing, but manipulated things using a cluster of metallic tentacles that it could extend from its undercarriage. Bliks could have sworn it also had a dark sense of humour, terrifying newly hired labourers by climbing up the walls and surprising them from odd angles.

"If you do need my services, Chancellor Volgeling, I would be …", TAU-3-UN-46 paused, reminding Bliks that her recently installed interpersonal nuance subroutines might need some time to be fully integrated "… delighted to assist. One of my RNU-1 units is always nearby."

Bliks sighed. Of course the warehouse Director Robot was keeping tabs on her. She had often wondered how it always seemed to know not only when she needed a particular part but have that part in hand. Glancing around she saw a shy two foot long beetle Observer Robot scuttle back behind a nearby crate, its shell already shifting colour to match its darker hiding place.

Focusing back on the looming robot, Bliks spoke again, "Ex a you four un seven, I think, if we can manage, both answer my question and solve your problem at the same time." Bliks stepped over to a large bin filled with small, tapered cylinders pulling one out and holding it between her fingers "Can you tell me what this is?"

XAU-4-UN-7's sensor cluster extended slightly, focusing in on the small object "That is a standard 30×165 high explosive dual purpose shell, designed for use in my chain gun."

"So it is a kind of ammunition that you can use."

"Correct, Technician Volgeling."

Bliks wondered if the robot was worried that it was dealing with an idiot, someone who couldn't even identify the proper ammunition it needed. She dismissed the thought with a smile.

"Now, do you consider yourself to be part of the arsenal of the Numerian Army … or a member of the Numerian Army?"

Its sensor cluster flicked to green again and then back to red. "I do not understand the relevance of this question to the problem in my chain gun ammunition storage."

"It has to do with the nature of ammunition," Bliks put down the shell and picked up a rail gun she had been working on earlier. "You're able to talk to me, unlike this gun. You can decide where to shoot and what to shoot at, again unlike this weapon. And if I were to tell you to do something supremely stupid, you would tell me of its tactical shortcomings, wouldn't you?"

"Correct, Technician Volgeling."

"So there are those who don't see you as anything more than just a gun, a piece of ammunition, something that we would use and throw away if it breaks. They wouldn't see you as a part of the team, a member of the army. And we're going to have to change that. Yes, I know, your primary purpose isn't one of diplomacy or rhetoric, but I will need you and the others in your unit to try."

"Because, you see, we're gearing up for a new fight, and the problem in your chain gun ammunition storage isn't a problem at all, it's a solution. Your standard 30×165 high explosive dual purpose shells have a core made out of steel. We've replaced that with a material we call cold iron."

"And cold iron can hurt demons."

"So, what do you think it means?" Eryno asked, his face sporting a lopsided smile. Bliks had often wondered at the chances of a half-elf, like Eryno, would end up working with an android and a sylph, all having much longer lifespans than the abundant human population.

Bliks sighed. This was one of the challenges she faced in talking with Eryno. Always so focused on the present, where their opponents were, where to go to next, it served him well in dealing with traps and combat, but outside of those moments of pressure, he seemed to lack a sense of focus, an aimless drifting into and out of circumstance. And so it was in dealing with esoteric matters like the prophecies, if she could even call them that, that Ve'Dien had dropped on her weeks ago.

Hex looked over at his two companions, having just secured one of their opponents after stripping them of their gear. The gunslinger proceeded to double check his bandolier of firearms, ensuring each one was topped up in either charge or fully loaded, his hands moving carefully but methodically; this was one of his unusual physical ticks, always checking his gear, but never in the frantic fashion of a man searching for his now missing wallet.

"I think," Hex said flatly, "Bliks doesn't know what it means and wanted to have your insight, even though she hasn't yet asked that question."

"Oh." Eryno said, his expression changing to one of concerted focus.

… darknessnightcoldmetalshroudcapecoverhelmblindstonehard … the words fell over the link to Bliks … howlscreamwindcoldnightterrormonsterreachingchoke … she suppressed the urge to wince; she felt she had to start to get used to this now more than just a hum.

"I don't know." Eryno continued. "I mean, we've both died at least a couple of times … I don't remember that being particularly dark … so maybe it's not about dying?"

"That, I agree with." Bliks said, now cataloguing the gear they had stripped from the Pathfinders. A casting of a few spells allowed her to further break down not only what gear was what, but the valuable from the mundane.

"And?" Eryno asked, having waited a few minutes for Bliks to elaborate.

"Well it worries me that it likely isn't about dying." Bliks said, "Howling in the dark sounds more like torture or despair. And if Ve'Dien is to be believed, that's my fate if I don't 'open the way to eternity' by being 'the lock, the gate, and the key'. I can't be clear if it's something that will happen if I don't do something or if something's coming that if I don't prevent it, that's what will happen."

"Have you considered the source?" Hex asked, picking out from the now collected gear something that had caught his eye.

Bliks nodded, "Yes. She was our companion, my cohort even, for months. But she also went into this place," she gestured at their surroundings, "by herself. We haven't seen all of Silver Mount, what other terrors could be left behind by either Unity or the Dominion of the Black?"

"And Brigh?" Hex pressed on.

"The signs have been inconclusive," Bliks grumbled, "None of our divinations have indicated a new herald, but there's always room for heretics or niche cults. Maybe this is something else, some remnant of Unity that tainted Casandalee, gave her something of the divine but not enough, not yet, to be clear. Time works differently in the outer sphere, it's hard for us to really measure the passage of meaningful events."

"And it could mean all sorts of threats that are looming. Do you really think, even though we wiped out that one enclave of members of the Dominion that they're not still out there? Or that when you blew up that power matrix that it wouldn't have attracted their attention? And outside of Numeria, there are all sorts of different kinds of world ending threats, any one of which could lead to howling in the dark."

One of the Pathfinders was coming around. "What are we going to do about them?" Eryno asked, although Bliks could feel it was more trying to shift focus away from such gloomy future matters, another benefit he brought with his attention on the present.

They had detected the Pathfinders intrusion into Silver Mount moments after it had occurred but hadn't been able to stop them before they had caused an unknown amount of damage. The hologram logs recording the events laid it out fairly clearly. They had bypassed the Divinity drive's teleportation null zone by using some kind of anchor another team had left behind for them and then almost immediately started attacking everything within sight. An entire room of domestic servant droids smashed into pieces because the ignorant and trigger happy Pathfinders had wanted to loot their component pieces. Then they blasted through several doors and, when attacked by a group of Riot Suppressor robots, tried destroying the local robot control panel, apparently thinking that it'd disable the robots. But like a ship whose tiller has been removed, it'll still keep going, as the robots did, and only Hex, Eryno, and Bliks' intervention prevented their destruction. The destruction of the robots, Bliks thought, knowing that was their likely outcome at the hands of these thugs.

"Aside from that one," Bliks pointed to the still equipped half-orc barbarian, "I'm going to be force teleporting them to face unfulfilled justice elsewhere. The rogue, he'll be going to Daggermark; his face should be recognized by the posters they put up for his arrest. Not that I'm fond of sending a known thief into that nearly lawless land, but the museums in Osirion had no idea who had stolen from them so he wouldn't see punishment there."

"The demonologist, despite appearances as a diabolist, will be sent to Egorian. I'm sure the Cheliaxians will be happy to have her back, having likely killed an actual diabolist to secure her identity with her compatriots."

"And what of the Paladin?" Hex mused.

Bliks sniffed with disgust, "They're normally a good sort, but this one either didn't care to or wasn't allowed to dig into their past, a serious flaw in the Pathfinder Society, almost requiring the just to sully themselves if they want to get work with them."

"Overall I'm just disappointed. We allowed them to reopen their lodge in Starfall, we invited them to join us in studying Androffan technology at the Numerian Institute, and this is how they choose to repay us. I wasn't surprised when you pointed out their first bungling attempts at theft, but a few silver disks here or there wasn't something I thought we should concern ourselves with. But this?" She pointed at the destruction the Pathfinders had left in their wake, "This is unacceptable. They could have delved into Silver Mount with a proper priest of Brigh at their side, greatly reducing their risk, and if only they would be willing to abide by our demand of first option to purchase any material and a light handed approach to this ship's precious contents."

"At least their Barbarian showed restraint. Unexpected that. Perhaps we should consider hiring her. What do you think Hex?"

"I'm sure we could find some work, if she's willing. You know the Society won't appreciate this."

"Of course they won't. But the deal I gave them was better than the deal they had, and now that they know what we're capable of, they'll at least be more careful in the future. It wouldn't pay for every one of their agents they send here to end up answering for the various crimes they've committed across Galorian."

A new signal broke through the link, from outside, an actual outside communication. "Sovereign Hex? Am I intruding?" Bliks couldn't put a name to the voice, but certainly one of the guards manning the main entrance to Silver Mount.

"Go ahead Captain." Hex 'spoke' over the link. Clearly he at least knew the rank of the guard, if not their name.

"There's something going on to the north. The men say it's a storm, but the priest says its like no storm she's ever seen. We thought you should know."

Bliks nodded and swept up the gear they were keeping into a portable hole, deactivated the Divinity's nullification field, invoked the phrases necessary to teleport the Pathfinders away, save for the half-orc, and made a mental note to have a team catalogue the wreckage. Putting a hand on each of her companion's shoulders, and they on the still comatose barbarian, teleported them all to the peak of Silver Mount.

Numeria was not a beautiful land. Blasted by winds, sparse vegetation, and lingering radiation from years of broken Androffan technology had not been kind. But it was a hearty place, and if you were willing to work, the land would give up a profit. From this lofty spire, Bliks felt like she could see all of what made Numeria that land that it was.

But to the north was an ever pressing concern. Always just over the horizon but never out of Blik's thoughts for long, was the Worldwound. A massive rent in reality, somehow linking one of the Abyssal planes to the former nation of Sarkoris, it was now a twisted realm of madness and death, where four crusades had tried to push the demonic hordes back and four crusades had merely slowed their endless tide.

And now there was a great dark cloud brewing, shot through with red lightning and flashes of green sky. No doubt the land below the cloud top was being spattered with vile slime or the corpses of incomplete demons, vomited forth from the ever churning Abyss.

Then there was the flash. A golden spike driven down from the heavens into this boiling cauldron. For a moment the clouds seemed to recoil, and then they spilled out.

In horror Bliks' glance turned to the nearby city of Starfall. She could already see the flashes of plasma and laser, the puffs of dirt visible even from here which must have been massive volleys of missiles exploding in the ranks of invaders. And there was no doubt in Bliks mind that these were demons.


	2. Codas 06-10

In this following treatise, you might find my conclusions to run counter to those of previous authors, even authors who have deeply and extensively studied both the Abyss and the Outer Sphere. It is in this disagreement that you should learn the first lesson about the nature of the Abyss, while seemingly an eternal realm, it is only eternal in its existence, not in its character, for being a chaotically aligned place has given any particular structure only temporary status. So, I would suggest to future demonologists or those who are interested in either studying or fighting the Abyss and its progeny, to not hold this or any other document as being an honest relating of the state of affairs when you face these struggles.

Before we get into the general nature of Demonic Invasions, I would like to say a few words on Abyssal itself as a language. For those who wish to retain a semblance of their sanity, I would highly recommend using both Comprehend Languages and Tongues when attempting to converse in Abyssal. This is due to the frustratingly changing nature of Abyssal, compounded with the recognition that Abyssal is a language spoken across the second vastest plane in the Great Beyond, if planes themselves are said to have any sense of a finite size. The sheer spread of space prevents a singular language from developing but surprisingly, I believe the nature of the Abyss itself, as some have argued a kind of gross living being in itself, does at least tie together some basic principles.

Within any particular Abyssal Realm, there is a local dialect of Abyssal whose understanding is fairly universal. Occasionally this is a kind of form that follows the whims of the presiding Demon Lord, but usually it arises from sharing a similar space with others that you generally need to communicate with.

So at its best, Abyssal is a locally understood language with terms that are shared across the Abyss itself through means and mechanisms unknown to my studies. That said, it is not an easily comprehended language even if one understands those shared terms. If a demon points at a place and says 'fight' in Abyssal, they might mean that there was a fight there, that there will be a fight there, that you are to go there and fight, you are to fight it there, or any other potential combination of tense and subject. I believe that much of this explains the constant infighting between demons, as they neither fully understand one another nor do they make efforts to. And this disagreement and lack of understanding I believe is a part of what makes Abyssal an integral part of the Abyss, as it destroys meaning and communication; if a demon tells a slave to 'work', they will gleefully beat them until the slave starts doing what they intended to do, while the next time they tell them to 'work' they may mean something else, resulting in another round of beatings.

As the madness of demonologists demonstrates, it actually helps not to be sane in trying to decipher Abyssal without the aid of magic. Comparing spells for contacting Hell, which are often highly prescribed and any deviation from the age old formula results in calamity, the means and methods of contacting demons and the other inhabitants of the Abyss are, on the surface, simplistic. The challenge lies in a lack of specificity. A ritual may call for invoking something on the third. Does that mean the third month? The third day of the month? The third beat of the drum? It may seem incongruous that demons, who wish to be unleashed to cause as much destruction as possible on the Material plane would make such contacts easy, but their revelry in destruction for its own sake is reflected in the willingness to see even their petitioners destroyed.

And now we are to the core of the nature of the Abyss and where I believe my research has deviated most from others. The Abyss, unlike any other realm, is a realm of destruction for destruction's sake. In a realm like the Negative Energy plane or the Shadow plane, destruction has an end, an accepted ruin, an erased page, a flattened, lifeless nothingness, but the Abyss takes it another step. Ash and ruin can be destroyed by forming something new out of its remnants, a kind of destruction in creation, but more often than not things are not reduced to that, but are merely rent apart or fused together into something new, so that its previous form has been destroyed. Such is the nature of the ever undulating and writhing of the environment itself in the Abyss.

There does seem, however, to be a kind of hierarchy to this destruction. At the highest level, or most pressing, is the destruction of creatures not of the Abyss. Next is a shifting balance between fellow creatures and manufactured objects. Then there is the environment followed closely by the body of the monster themselves. Put two similar demons in a room with an orc and a chest, and they'll likely torture the orc to death, then alternatively smash the chest or kill one another, followed by the survivor beating its fists on the walls until either they or it breaks. You should never expect a demon to be a passive guard if given such a duty; they will break and kill anything that they are not prevented from breaking or killing. Even their charge might be scarred or distorted.

This brings me to my final point, that of a Demonic Invasion. I believe this term is quite incorrect and would much prefer the use of 'Demonic Incursion'. Invasions suggest a kind of considered malice, with plans for supply, an organizing of forces, and a goal in mind. Demonic Incursions are much more like wildfires or storms, spreading where they can and devouring anything within their reach. This spread is often hampered by their own infighting, with demons killing demons out of boredom or sport or out of curiosity as to how much their fellow can endure before expiring. Some have written that their goal is the spreading of sin, so as to create more sinful souls to feel the Abyss, but I believe there is no such need; the Material plane is vast and within that vastness, ample opportunities for sin, and as noted above, the Abyss recycles what it destroys so it may destroy it again, and so only in the fringes, where the Abyss crumbles into the true madness of the Maelstrom, does it ever truly lose any of its bulk.

And so it is with the Worldwound. Like a breakwater, the wardstones keep this incursion contained, holding back the ever lapping tide of demons that are spat out by this rent in reality. Ironically, Mendev's mere existence helps contain this incursion, as they are a much more desirable target for destruction than the frozen wastes of the Crown of the World or the barren Realm of the Mammoth Lords. But, as is the nature of demons to lack cohesion, even in this there are those who fight to spread their taint upon these lands.

Finally, it would be unwise to consider the wardstones to be a permanent solution for those who rely on its protection. Long has Numeria avoided its responsibility in fighting this threat to our world, and of all the peoples of Galorian, our closeness to and use of the relics of a space faring culture whose bulwarks, in time, also failed them, should give us the understanding that, no matter how thick the chains, no matter how intricate the locks, and no matter how powerful the incantations, a captive beast will not be held so forever.

5 Sarenith, 4716 AR. Battle of Starfall

NAVI-SN 5 – New track entering field of view, designation Rho. Passing data to NAVI-LB for analysis.

NAVI-LB – Rho identified as Demon, Babau. Vulnerable to CI . Resistant to plasma.

NAVI-TC – CMDR recommend using chain gun with CI against target Rho.

CMDR – Order 5837 NAVI-SN task SN 2 and SN 4 to GNRY-RF.

NAVI-SN – Order 5837 acknowledged.

NAVI-SN 2 – Reporting as ordered, GNRY-RF

NAVI-SN 4 – Reporting as ordered, GNRY-RF.

CMDR – Order 5838 GNRY-RF to use SN 2 and SN 4 to provide data to GNRY-FC

GNRY-RF – Order 5838 acknowledged. Telemetry incoming GNRY-FC.

GNRY-FC – Acknowledged GNRY RF.

CMDR – Order 5839 GNRY-FC to use supplied data for chain gun target Rho. Report if Rho no longer targetable. Move discussion to subchannel.

GNRY-FC – Order 5839 acknowledged. Commencing firing.

GNRY – Request release of plasma lance target Rho.

CMDR – Request denied GNRY-FC. Rho resistant to plasma.

GNRY – Acknowledged.

NAVI-SN 5 – Building collapse detected. Passing data to NAVI-MP and NAVI-MN.

NAVI-MN – Debris does not block advance. CMDR recommend ignore building collapse.

NAVI-TC – CMDR recommend task SN 1 scan building collapse for survivors.

NAVI-MN – CMDR do not recommend retasking SN 1 from providing data for NAVI-MN.

CMDR – Order 5840 task SN 1 to scan building collapse for survivors. NAVI-MN to retain SN 3 data feed.

NAVI-SN – Order 5840 acknowledged.

NAVI-MN – Order 5840 acknowledged. NAVI-MN efficiency reduced 50%. Recommend speed reduction.

NAVI-MP – No path available to reach objective in designated time if speed reduced. Recommend maintaining speed.

CMDR – Maintain Order 4224: Advance to primary objective at maximum speed.

CMDR – NAVI-TC status of analysis Technician Volgeling 'new fight' statement of purpose.

NAVI-TC – Analysis ongoing. As noted, NAVI-LB updated with target data. GNRY provided with CI rounds. 'diplomacy or rhetoric' analysis incomplete.

GNRY-RF – Rho moving to CQC.

GNRY – Request release of claws target Rho.

NAVI-LB – Warning: Rho resistant to claws. CI not yet installed.

CMDR – Warning acknowledged. Request approved.

GNRY – Rho immobilized with claws. Damage minimal. GNRY-FC reports immobilization increasing efficiency by 78%

CMDR – ENGI report status.

ENGI – All systems within tolerance CMDR.

GNRY – GNRY-FC reports Rho eliminated.

CMDR – Acknowledged GNRY-FC.

CMDR – Order 5841 SN 2 to provide data to NAVI-MN.

NAVI-SN – Order 5841 acknowledged.

NAVI-SN 4 – Reporting as ordered, NAVI-MN.

CMDR – Order 5842 task SN 4 to scan building collapse for survivors.

NAVI-MN – NAVI-MN efficiency returned to 100%.

NAVI-SN – Order 5842 acknowledged.

*This is interesting*

CMDR – COMM, state origin of unknown process.

COMM – COMM-RD not reporting any signal reception.

NAVI-TC – Hypothesis: 'magical' interference.

HULL – Reporting unknown file: in memory block 9.

CMDR – Order 5843 HULL-DC, isolate memory block 9. Destroy memory block 9.

HULL-DC – Order 5843 acknowledged.

CMDR – Order 5844 COMM-RD to contact TAU-3-UN-38 to update damage log re: memory block 9.

COMM-RD – Order 5844 acknowledged.

NAVI-SN – SN 2 and 4 report building collapse scan complete. No survivors. No victims. Hypothesis: building abandoned.

NAVI-SN 5 – 4 armoured humanoids entering field of view, designation Sigma 1-4. Passing data to NAVI-LB for analysis.

NAVI-LB – Sigma 1-4 identified as Kellid, Ghost Wolf clan. Warning: highly aggressive towards robots. Visual data does not suggest demonic affiliation. Melee weapons.

NAVI-TC – CMDR recommend display of strength to dissuade aggression.

NAVI-TC – CMDR revised recommendation based on Technician Volgeling 'new fight' statement of purpose. Recommend use of COMM-SP to transmit NAVI-LB file 332.

CMDR – Order 5845 COMM-SP transmit NAVI-LB file 332, tone: encouraging.

COMM-SP – Order 5845 acknowledged. File 332 tone modulated. Output follows: "Kellid brethren! You may not trust me, but today we face a common enemy."

CMDR – Order 5846 NAVI-SN 5 deep scan field of view for flying target.

NAVI-SN – Order 5846 acknowledged.

CMDR – Order 5847 GNRY set plasma lance for aerial dispersion.

GNRY – Order 5847 acknowledged.

NAVI-SN 5 – New track entering deep field of view, designation Tau. Passing data to NAVI-LB for analysis.

NAVI-LB – Tau identified as Demon, Mezzalorn. Vulnerable to CI . Resistant to plasma.

NAVI-TC – CMDR recommend using chain gun with CI against target Rho.

CMDR – Recommendation acknowledged, overruled. Order 5846 NAVI-MN full stop.

NAVI-MN – Order 5846 acknowledged.

NAVI-MP – Order 4224 in jeopardy.

CMDR – Order 5847 GNRY-RF to use SN 1-4 to provide data to GNRY-FC

GNRY-RF – Order 5847 acknowledged. Telemetry incoming GNRY-FC.

GNRY-FC – Acknowledged GNRY RF.

CMDR – Order 5848 GNRY-FC to use supplied data for plasma lance target Tau.

GNRY-FC – Order 5848 acknowledged. Commencing firing, plasma lance aerial dispersion.

CMDR – Order 5849 NAVI-LB search 'cooperation'

NAVI-LB – Order 5849 acknowledged. Files 487, 533, 973, 288

NAVI-TC – CMDR recommend file 973 best fits 'new fight' statement of purpose.

CMDR – Order 5850 COMM-SP transit LAVI-LB file 973, tone: proud

COMM-SP – Order 5850 acknowledge. File 973 tone modulated. Output follows: "As I strike them from the air, so you shall strike them from the ground. Together, we will bring ruin to our foes and prove our might!"

NAVI-SN 5 – Sigma 1-4 moving to engage Tau in CQC.

NAVI-TC – Outcome optimal. Recommend CMDR transmit processes leading to outcome to other XAU-4 units, emphasis do not use exact wording.

CMDR – Order 5851 COMM-RD transmit data file N2 to TAU-3-UN-38 for redistribution to XAU-4 units.

COMM-RD – Order 5851 acknowledged.

NAVI-MP – Order 4224 still in jeopardy.

CMDR – Order 5852 NAVI-MP recalculate Order 4224 using booster jets.

NAVI-MP – Order 5852 acknowledged. Order 4224 no longer in jeopardy.

"The Black Sovereign, in the name of the Numerian Council, takes pleasure in presenting the Commendation Medal to First Lieutenant Ex Eh You Four Un Seven Numerian Army. For conspicuous gallantry at the risk of its life …" the audible gasps from the assembled crowd forced the herald to pause in her reading the citation. While the idea of a robot, a gearsman, having an official rank in the Numerian Army was one thing, claiming it had a 'life' was something that even the technocratic leaning city dwellers seemed to balk at.

But Bliks had insisted on that wording. If they were to truly see a time where humans and machines could work side by side, with neither one nor the other having precedence over the other, the language used to separate them must first be blurred then wiped out entirely.

Kul-Inkit's sharp cough returned silence to the crowd. The former consort to the previous Black Sovereign and now Chief of Staff of the Army of Numeria scanned the gathering from behind a fresh bandage wrapping the right side of her face, a token of a vicious struggle with a Glabrezu demon. The monstrosity had slipped into the Inner Sector under the guise of a Juggernaut robot, only holding its glee for destruction in check long enough to bypass the now thinly spread patrols guarding the Palace of Fallen Stars; the Juggernauts were perhaps the most laconic of the robot series, often frustratingly requiring a Director robot to translate why it couldn't do as ordered. When it finally broke and attacked a group of citizens fleeing to the safety of the keep, Kul-Inkit intervened and personally slew the beast. The injury would be easily magically healed, her eye restored with a Rejuvenation spell, but only to a point; battle scars were seen as great honours amongst the Kellid tribes and Kul-Inkit's body was not a stranger to them either.

"… at the risk of its life above and beyond it's call of duty, while serving as an Armor Officer in Starfall, Sovereign's Reach, Numeria on five Sarenith, 4716. First Lieutenant Four Un Seven was operating independently in the defense of Starfall with special designation to defend the Silver Gate when a disorganized force of anti-Numerian forces consisting of hundreds of members initiated a close proximity, sustained but chaotic assault, using spells and melee attacks on the Killbox district of Starfall. Seeing the perimeter had been breached and its continued presence at the Silver Gate as unnecessary, First Lieutenant Four Un Seven swiftly engaged the attacking force. A telekinetic attack disabled its force field but with resolve it took command of local disorganized infantry and brought the fight to the enemy. As the enemy drew near Lieutenant Four Un Seven fired its chain gun at point blank range until its ammo supply had been expended."

Indeed the trail of demonic bodies left behind the Annihilator was extensive, its cold iron rounds having been put to devastating purpose, but even its internal ammunition production capacity had its limits and it only had so much cold iron to work with; mere skymetal would not suffice to pierce the supernaturally tough hide of many of these demons. The idea of a resupply unit, perhaps a modified Reclamation robot, stirred in Bliks' mind, but that plan might be weeks into the future.

"Lieutenant Four Un Seven proceeded to, at great risk to its life, engage the enemy in hand to hand combat, pinning enemies so that others might deal lethal strikes. Lieutenant Four Un Seven's courage, steadfast commitment to the defense of Starfall, and ability to fight while seriously impaired prevented the enemy from overrunning the district and seizing citizens still trapped there and ultimately prevented the enemy from gaining a foothold from which to attack the rest of Starfall. Lieutenant Four UN Seven's extraordinary heroism and selflessness, above and beyond the call of duty, are keeping with the highest traditions of Numeria, and reflect great credit upon itself, its fellow Ex Eh You Four units, and the Numerian Army."

With a swift tap, Hex brought home the hammer onto the small skymetal pin, driving the newly minted Commendation Medal into the scarred hull of the Annihilator robot that towered over him, despite the hastily erected scaffold he new stood on. While a Heavy Repair Drone had sealed the breaches in its hull and servants had wiped it clean of both spilled blood and Numerian fluid, the scratches and demonic claw marks dug deep into its armoured hide. Even now a faint cloud of nanites swarmed over its skin, returning the armour to its full protection, but at its request, like Kul-Inkit, superficial scars would be left. Its decision to emulate the Kellid barbarian tradition was an unexpected but pleasing one to Bliks.

From her perch above her personal quarters in the palace, she looked down on the ceremony on the parade ground constructed between the palace and the former Technic League compound, now a burgeoning cathedral to her god, Brigh, the Clockwork goddess. At her own request she was absent, another in a series of steps to ingrain the authority and supremacy of Hex. By personally presenting the medals without the presence of the so called 'Androffan Witch of Numeria', none of the glory would be shared with her and his prestige would thus rise. Eryno, of course, would be present, as Numeria's Spymaster and personal bodyguard of the Sovereign, neither of which would question Hex's authority. The three still shared their cybernetic link and in private there was no sense of any of having authority over the others, but public forms must be obeyed. Needless to say, there were those in the crowd who nervously looked up to where she sat, a mixture of fear for what she could do and what she could protect them from playing through their minds.

Bliks sighed. She had only heard the whispers referring to her in, well, she couldn't entirely decide if they were flattering or unflattering terms, as the Kellids referred to their own spell casters as 'witches', but surely the traditional taboo around all things Androffan put that doubt to rest, a few months back, when the Ve'Diens had paid her a visit. That was going to be another thorn in her side for some time, perhaps a never ending struggle to remove the taboo around the Androffan ruins that littered the semi-barren steppes of Numeria. But, faith willing, she had decades of vigor left in her life; perhaps a generation born under a different view of gearsmen would be enough.

Bliks stood and stepped off the edge of the palace. As was her birthright as a Sylph, the winds that had made her seat on the rough parapet as comfortable as a pillow, supported her light frame as she hovered in space. For those Kellids who hadn't seen her pull this stunt before, it was just another sign of her unnatural nature, a spell caster flying without casting a spell. Behind her the pair of seemingly dormant Mymidon robot bodyguards rose as their thrusters roared to life. While their triplet of legs made them ungainly on the ground, they did serve to support their almost segmented humanoid torsos while not wasting energy in flight. Going through a quick checkup routine, each tested their large pincers, extended and retracted their tentacle like quantum whips from the lower portion of their 'face', and opened their missile launcher ports for inspection by the other unit.

She could have had them carry her, but she needed to stretch her legs, as odd as that felt to say as she didn't actually walk anywhere anymore, merely floated there, but otherwise her leg muscles would atrophy, and so she set off for Skywatch at the northern tip of the district of Sovereign's Watch, to perhaps see what calamity had happened far to the north in the Worldwound.

It would be about an hour's walk to Skywatch from the Palace of Fallen Stars, but that gave Bliks the opportunity to survey the damage the city had sustained for herself. As was unexpected, the Inner Sector had seen the least of the focus of the demons; her theory that they favoured easier targets first and ignored abandoned buildings for living creatures to torment played out across the city. Thus it was the Killbox was hit the hardest of Starfall's districts.

On the western side of the Street of Lights, Killbox was a district she had personally focused most of her attention on when it came to redeveloping Starfall from its poor management under the Technic League. While the entire city had suffered under their brutal oppression and flagrant pollution, nowhere had it been as bad as in Killbox. From the point of view of the League, this dense slum's population was only a source of cheap labour and experimental subjects. The only exception was the dwarven managed refuse dump of Scraphole, where the final dregs of Androffan technology often ended up after they had been picked clean.

It had taken some work, and the city council had refused to allocate funds for it, but redevelopment of Killbox had been underway before the demonic attack. With Bliks' urging, Hex paid out for entire neighbourhoods to be temporarily housed in local flop houses while their shacks and hovels were demolished and replaced by still dense but much more sturdy and comfortable living quarters; newly expanded Gearsman patrols ensured that only the original residents were allowed to move back in, plus residents from the next neighbourhood that was randomly selected. As much as possible local labour was used in constructing these new apartment blocks, but where the work was unsafe or unsuitable for humans, a veritable army of Mannequin robots were available, sometimes customized for specific tasks, overseen by Director robots, and always assisted by Heavy Repair drones.

Those apartment blocks had saved many lives, not just in the short term by improving living conditions, but by providing a safe refuge from the packs of demons that savaged that district. While Bliks had tried to ensure that no particular area had been given preferential treatment for the redevelopment work, she was sure to hear from the councillors representing Killbox that, because of her decisions, this or that family would have lived, regardless of the silence of the councillors whose constituents had been saved.

Even from her relatively distant vantage point, Bliks could see entire neighbourhood where demons had wantonly blasted everything in sight, crushing rickety tenements under their bulk or smashing through thin walls and ravaging those inside. At least now, with areas that had been particularly hard hit, there would be cleared areas for new construction; perhaps that would be the way, Bliks considered, to address the complaints of unequal redevelopment. A brutal realigning of her original plans, but it was a silver lining

For her own and both the Church of Brigh and Numerian Institute of Technology's part, they had focused on the problem of food, water, and waste in the city. The water problem was one that was easily solved; Bottomless Water Jugs, or as some called them Lesser Decanters of Endless Water. Easier and cheaper to enchant and without the dangerous 'geyser' setting, in short order the various mostly criminal guilds that had grown fat on importing water were driven out of business; Bliks had ensured that a few organizations, all willing to get out of the 'smashers' racket, where thugs would be hired to smash rain barrels, would survive this economic upset. That the water produced from a Bottomless Water Jug didn't last more than a day meant a constant demand without having to take the expensive step of building sewers.

A few of the water storage facilities had been breached or corrupted by demonic taint, but the latter was barely a problem as the water was magically refreshed. Rebuilding the water tanks would be problematic for those industries that relied upon large stores of water, but the average Starfall citizen's interaction with a Bottomless Water Jug was similar to a local water pump and so almost no one had been without clean water since the attack.

The problem of food and waste was handled in one technological step. As the Divinity had to survive for years in space without resupply, their waste recycling systems were highly advanced but relatively simple to relocate. Into warehouses across the city, labourers would haul spoiled food, agricultural cast offs, dead animals, even so called night soil collected from both chamber pots and stables. There burners, employees who used to work in the incinerators, would load this mixture of materials into the Androffan recyclers and, with power provided by solar panels installed on the roof, convert the waste into the goopy contents of the so called 'goo tubes'.

This highly efficient recycling, combined with the new farmland surrounding Starfall, made the metropolis far less dependant upon imports than they had been. The farmland had resulted from using the organic material left behind after the transplanted jungles surrounding Starfall that had failed to survive the winter combined with a fleet of Terraformer robots raising the water table and enriching the native soil. That the Technic League had never even tried that feat had changed many Numerians view of technology from that of a Gearsman brutally enforcing tyranny to the quietly enigmatic Terraformers making the land bloom.

Fortunately the demons had focused their efforts on the city rather than spreading out over the fields that had only recently had their hay harvest brought in. While she hadn't heard specific reports back yet, Bliks expected the wheat harvest would go forward in Arodus, two months away. The recycling centers were a different matter. The equipment inside the warehouses were of typical Androffan industrial construction, quite resilient and not an easy target for a demon's destructive nature, but the solar panels had almost universally been smashed across the Killbox district. An improvised system of ferrying charged silverdisks from the reactors in the basement of the Clockwork Cathedral had been set up, but it reinforced the dependence of that poor neighbourhood on the largess of those who had greater access to Androffan technology, a staple of the Technic League which Bliks was trying to distance their administration from.

Her survey noted the sharp difference between the damage done in Killbox and in Sovereign's Watch, the affluent district of Starfall. Here, despite their repeated demands for funds, the locals had been expected to pay for the boons Bliks had focused on Killbox. Less had changed here than anywhere else in the city, so entrenched were these Kellid families in the ways they enjoyed doing things. The thin population, combined with a stronger private security presence made for less enjoyable prey to the demonic mind, but even then there were signs of battle. The most extreme example was one mansion that had been imploded by a Pulsepounder robot equipped with an experimental Vortex Gun after an Observer swarm had confirmed there were only demons left alive inside.

As she neared Skywatch, Bliks wondered how many of those kinds of weapons they would be able to field against the demons. If the worst had come to pass, and the wardstones were no longer containing the Abyssal hordes, the ubiquitous lasers and plasma weapons would do little to impede the incursion. Looking back at the ruined sections of Starfall, she knew that if war truly came to Numeria from the north, while they might fare better than Sarkoris before it was engulfed by the Worldwound, the outcome seemed to be inevitable.

Bliks sighed, looking across the small chamber at her apprentice, of sorts, "It's been two days Tomaq, can't you say anything more precise than 'north'?" He was a relatively recent émigré from the town of Scrapwall, if you could call a bunch of criminals trying to eke out an existence in a junk yard a town. The ratfolk alchemist had a bit more of a stooped posture than many of his kin, but it neither seemed to bother him nor restrict his movement, and it provided a relatively flat surface that he could carry a bewildering mixture of equipment on.

"Whatever iths ish iths too far away for ush to properly triangulate, Mistresh." Despite his subordinate status, and shorter stature, he spoke as if addressing an equal, something Bliks never had to insist upon. After hearing about the exploits of the Torch Bearers in Scrapwall, he had left his warren with the permission of his clan leader to travel in search of this female tattooed wizard who they said was quite the expert on Androffan technology. Having only ever had exposure to cast away bits and pieces, the temptation to have access to actual working machines was too great.

That she was, from his perspective, a bit of a fanatical follower of Brigh, the clockwork goddess, didn't phase him, nor did her mixed heritage. He could smell and almost taste an opportunity and found one in apprenticing for Bliks, where her skill in alchemy and engineering were a boon to his own studies. Her interest in alchemy was to him an astoundingly esoteric one, for while she found practical application for her engineering skills in the wrecks strewn across Numeria, she never wielded alchemical weapons, as Tomaq did from time to time. This was a perfect match in his mind, as her studies were entirely academic, if more advanced than his own, and thus not limited by what he believed was possible; the chance to have different practical theories challenged by theoretical possibilities was invigorating to the short humanoid rat.

Bliks was sitting on a small table, not needing a chair for comfort, while Tomaq was manipulating the holographic projector at the centre of the room. That alone might have been out of place if the room itself wasn't a transplant from a wreck the Technic League found decades ago. While most of Skywatch was of conventional stone construction, the observation dome at the top was entirely alien. Ribs of glaucite stretched from the edges of the floor to a small disk in the ceiling, with large panels of voidglass filling out the space between them. The space had a light and airy feeling, only brought back down by the eight bulky gearsmen facing outwards at each of the cardinal and intercardinal directions, scanning the skies.

This was Tomaq's subordinate's, Karis Adamelin, workspace. She was a former member of the Technic League but seemingly only out of necessity. Having been interested in studying as a magus in Numeria the only going concern for instructors was found amongst the ranks of the League. That they were a squabbling group of power hungry wizards, technomancers, magi, alchemists, and witches didn't interest her; so long as she kept her head down and didn't express an interest in advancement, she could study without interference.

Her reluctance to get involved in their internecine conflicts resulted in frustration from her master who aspired to join the Council of Captains and her ultimate 'banishment' to this tower. While she had never been interested in really keeping an eye out for things that might interest the rest of the Technic League, the gearsmen did the vast majority of the work, so she found the arrangement agreeable. That the Chancellor of Numeria was personally asking for her expertise and to use her facilities to help narrow down the exact nature of the burst of golden light that had proceeded the demonic attack, came as a bit of a surprise to Karis.

"Ah," Bliks mused, "That does at least give us a minimum distance, yes?"

Tomaq nodded and turned to Karis, "If you mayh mish Adamelin?" then stepped back and gestured to the holographic emitter. That he could have brought up the map himself was not the point, that this was an opportunity to show his instructor the quality of his own instruction was.

The young magus stepped up to the machine, her hands only slightly wavering. A few keystrokes later her hesitation faded away, as she brought up a topographical map of the region with Starfall highlighted at the centre.

"As you can see Chancellor, our current projections put the event having occurred somewhere outside the borders of Numeria at least in Mendev, perhaps even in the Worldwound."

"Do you think that's likely?" Bliks interrupted.

Karis paused, not knowing if the Chancellor was staring at her or something near her. She had seen not just members of the Technic League with bionic eyes before, but nothing quite like the blank, solid silver orbs that Bliks had. She shook herself quickly and replied, "No mam. There are a string of forts along the perimeter of the Worldwound in that direction and no appreciable, to our latest reports, demonic settlements in that area."

Bliks ran a hand through her hair, scratching her scalp along the way. "And with our communications network down, I suppose we haven't heard anything from our frontier outposts either." She waved her hand, dismissing the question as a statement not needing their input. "Did you bring that biographical data I asked for?"

Tomaq stepped forward again, handing a data crystal to Karis who brought up its contents. The computer began speaking, first in Androffan, then pausing and shifting to the common tongue of Taldane. "Mendev. Kenabres. Captain Chun Dawei, male human. Soldier from Tian. Age 30." An image of a serious looking man floated in mid air. While there hadn't been any treaty banning this, she was sure that Mendev wouldn't appreciate even their friendly neighbours scrying on them. But Bliks had a sense that time was of the essence and so cast Scrying, saving Greater Scrying for future attempts.

The spell failed. She could sense that it hadn't been resisted, it just failed. "Is this data up to date? I mean, we have recent imaging of him?"

Tomaq looked for the first time somewhat nervous and glanced at Karis. "The imagagesh were provided by shpymashter Eryno's agentsh, Mistresh, lessh than a year old."

"Curious. Next bio please."

"Mendev. Kenabres. Overseer Julania Nalti, female human. Guardsman from Chelix. Age 45." This time an older woman's image formed in the space above the projector, smiling but scarred.

This time Bliks took a solid breath in and out before staring into the surface of the silver mirror, completing the spell with a word and a gesture.

Again it failed.

"Mistresh, are you sheeing anything?"

"No Tomaq. And it troubles me."


	3. Dreams within a nightmare

Each footfall hit with a squelch unlike any puddle that Bliks had run through and even the ground under that rebounded like gristle. She rent the air with her gasps, uncaring if the sound attracted more trouble in this troubled land. And yet she continued to half run half stagger along the gully she had found herself in.

Above her the sky thickened with clouds taking the shape of screaming faces or bodies being torn to pieces. It seemed to threaten rain, but here rain was a remote possibility. More likely in the minutes ahead she would feel the spatter of something sticky or oily. So far she hadn't experienced the pelting of something solid like teeth or bone splinters but she had heard the tales and despite her exhaustion, shuddered at the thought.

Seeing a hollow in the side of the gully, she stumbled into it to catch her breath. Time was a weird thing here and she didn't know how long she had been running from the screams of the crusaders as they were being cut down by that demonic monstrosity that had boiled up in the middle of their camp. On a good day, in her home town of Outsea, she knew she could run from the shark like sahuagin bullies that liked to prey upon air breathers like herself for at least a few minutes, but with her degrading pace, she pegged it about half an hour.

Half an hour. That should have put her at least a mile, maybe two, from camp. Gasping, she tried to clear her head of the thundering sound her blood made in her ears. It was just before they finished breaking camp, she had completed her morning studies and while the crusaders looked cautiously around, they shared a few bright words of encouragement that Bliks only half heard. All she could think about, in that moment was the last conversation she had with her father.

"I am well aware of the state of your apprenticeship," he had begun, still seated at his desk, but she had interrupted him.

"It's done! Mistress Miammir says that I am her most promising student! Why won't you let me go?"

Mahir al-Volgeling grunted and raised his voice a bit, "Because that woman is a crusading fanatic! I didn't pay for your instruction with her for her to drag you into this unending war."

"Mother would not have …", Bliks began, but Mahir slammed a fist down on the desk, knocking over a stack of books.

"Your mother is gone. She went there, into that hell, and didn't. Come. Back."

Bliks' blonde hair ruffled in an unseen wind, the streaks of navy coiling in patterns reminiscent of symbolic representations of wind in Tian, a strange land far to the east. "Don't you think I know THAT? I'm not going for Miammir, I'm going for HER!"

The burning look he cast at her was a familiar one, when she sought to break from the safe, the known, the careful path. At heart she hadn't been a rebellious child, but the constant striving for justice, for a fair outcome, often brought their mutual blood to boil. "Bliksemani, don't make me call for the marshal to have you detained." He grated, to which Bliks gasped, "It wouldn't be proper for the Brigade if we're seen to be quarrelling."

"I am NOT one of your mercenaries dad!" The word mercenary stung the most to him and she knew it. While it was technically true, they participated in military actions for hire, they were mostly engineers. Siege engineers, but hardly front line soldiers fighting for coin and glory.

"Don't treat me like one." She continued, "And were I one, I would have a commission with penalties for desertion, but I don't. If you want, the marshal can confirm it. AND I could call the guard, see what they have to say about a Kelshite holding his daughter against her will!"

The embers in her father's eyes seemed to dim a touch. Far from his homeland of Alkenstar, the local Iobarians loosely held to their Ulfen forefathers views on gender, not seeing the women in their communities as Kelshites did, precious jewels to be protected from harm, but instead as fierce equals, often the fiercer the more favoured. Bliks could only imagine her father thinking of a burly guard teaching him about how women in Mendev ought to be treated. It was, in the moment, a pleasing vindication.

"You wait right here, young lady." He said, standing and leaving the room. Despite his generally intellectual work, he insisted on all his men, including himself, to be capable of operating all aspects of their siege weapons, including loading. And so while his hair was streaking with grey, his frame could heft shot alongside his most junior labourers.

Bliks had half a mind to leave right then, taking what little supplies she would need, knowing the rest would be given freely by the Order of the Flaming Lance. What some nations could not provide in manpower they provided in goods, keeping the crusade flush with resources to strike into the Worldwound. She had already prepared her spells for the day and had breakfast, so it would only take her a few minutes.

But she waited. She busied herself by cleaning up her father's desk; they might fight, but mainly about methods, not objectives. Plus she got a moment to look over plans he had been working on for a new system of locks in Outsea … he had been wrapping up their work here, preparing to go home.

With a thump the pack broke Bliks out of her study of the intricate mechanical details. It was a rumpled old thing, with plain iron buckles and oil stained leather, but it had always been at Mahir's side. At the top a faded spiral symbol of the Riftwardens could barely made out under the grime. "This was your mothers."

"And? I don't need your backpack dad, I have my own."

"Open it."

"What, did she leave me some kind of note, just for an occasion like this, something to keep her daughter in line?"

"Fine." Mahir snatched the pack off the ground, opened one of the small side pouches and reached in. The compartment was only as large as his hand but he plunged his entire arm in, up to the shoulder.

"If you're set on going, you're taking this." He dropped the pack back to the floor again. "Don't show it off to the other crusaders, not everyone is as high minded as Miammir is. In fact, after a couple of months here, I suspect most of them aren't." He looked over her shoulder at the papers on his desk, straightened and laid out. "That's why I want to get back home. The coin may be good and the challenges interesting, but this isn't a healthy place. It hasn't been for a long time."

Then he opened his mouth again to speak, but instead a small white worm flopped out. Then another. Then his jaw broke open and the camp filled with a swarm of them. 'No, no.' Bliks thought, huddling in that hollow, 'it wasn't dad. It was the ground. The ground at the camp. Dad's back in Kenabres. Dad's okay. Dad's safe. Dad's safe.'

The first crusader had been swallowed into the tear in the ground like he had fallen into a pit, but a pit that was simultaneously spitting out pale worms the length and thickness of her arm. His screams were cut short and Bliks only hoped it was because he was no longer in pain and not because he simply couldn't be heard anymore. Bliks was far enough away from the hole that no worm seemed to be making its way towards her, but she knew her duty, and tried blasting one of the creatures with a simple Acid Splash. It sizzled and started melting, but was quickly devoured by one of its compatriots.

Swords flashed out, but were mainly to kill those who got out of the killing zone even now being peppered with alchemical fire. The stench of their crisping bodies revolted Bliks, but disgusting smells had been just another part of the trek into the Wounded Lands, the worst but nearest territory of the Worldwound to Kenabres. When she had suggested some kind of perfume or nose plugs, her fellow crusaders smiled knowingly at a rookie mistake; in such a dangerous realm, they had to rely on all their senses, even if it might make them retch at times.

There had been no sign of that lost crusader, merely a now smouldering hole in the ground. Bliks knew better than to not ask if they were going to try to retrieve him. If he were dead they would be needlessly exposing themselves to demonic taint and were he alive, he would wish to be dead.

The pile of stinking slime then convulsed. Again the crusaders prepared their weapons, a few prematurely sheathing their weapons so as to prepare two flasks. Bliks stood outside this ring of steel, having expended her own spells, now cradling a light crossbow. Again the pile pulsed, then again, like a clenched fist, and then it burst open.

Out of the pile of Abyssal Larvae a winged creature slammed into the sky. The space around it seemed to be distorted, and Bliks started to lose sense of how far it was away from her, even though she knew it could only be a foot or so taller than her, so she should be able to judge its distance by its height. Dragonfly like wings furiously beat the air while it surveyed the temporarily stunned crusaders. With a cry that shattered the air, it plunged into their midst.

Immediately Bliks froze. She couldn't shoot the creature for fear of hitting her fellows but it compounded that by not only flickering in place, but suddenly snapping from point to point around the camp, ripping armour plates off the soldiers that desperately tried to hack at its chitinous hide. The knight captain shouted for his men to fall back, to let him fight the beast, but when his sword came down on it, despite its holy enchantments, it fared no better than simple steel. In response the thing pounced on him, tearing into him with four claw like appendages that writhed on its torso.

Their holy man called for the aid of the followers of Iomedae, his holy symbol blazing in the still dim light of the early morning. A shimmering in the air called forth a stunning woman clad in a simple silver dress, pearl white wings extending from her back, and a flaming sword grasped by both hands. The cheer that the crusaders let out was horrifyingly matched by one from the shifting humanoid but insectoid demon, as a cloud of black fire formed behind the deva. From this mass came a hulking spider of monstrous dimensions, driving its claws into the angel's back, forcing her to the ground.

That's when she ran. She clutched the crossbow to her chest for the first few minutes, forgetting that it was there but unwilling to let it go. The angel's death seemingly came last, a piercing, sorrowful cry that somehow drifted across the torn land. Even then Bliks didn't look back. If the brave and powerful could not stand against that horror, she had little hope. She could only run. The tears at her cowardice clouded her grey eyes, but she ran on.

Ran into this gully and now into this hollow. Her breath now starting to become regular, she instead was wracked with sobs. Her first adventure, perhaps her last, to die in this horrible place, under this tainted sky that now dropped squirming, malformed insects. It surprised her when their sound of hitting the ground was dim, like the rustle of leaves.

Then she heard a crunching sound. It was further back the gully, but was steady and getting closer. Not daring to look, she squeezed back into the hollow, feeling something she hoped were roots jutting into her back. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and held its hems tight, disgustingly hoping that the shower of insects might just bury her enough to remain hidden.

Mahir had taught her well, having her listen to different sounds so she could identify what might be in the dark, even though she had inherited her mother's supernatural ability to see without light. And Bliks could hear that these were boots. A mere foot had a certain solid sound to it, but a boot had a slightly delayed series of sounds, and the insectile rain wasn't enough to deceive her. What got Bliks to look up and out of her cloak was not the hope that it was a surviving crusader, having somehow also escaped and miraculously followed her here, but instead a wordless song that started to ripple through the air.

It seemed to be a simple tune, starting with a low hum punctuated by a beat. It was droning, but not boring, and created in Bliks a sense of anticipation, that it was building to something. The something she had predicted was a sharp but still quiet whistle that spun about a few notes that reflected the beat that had been previously established. The whistle cut out and was replaced by the thrumming hum as the footfalls came to a stop just outside Bliks' hollow. Feeling her fear rise again, Bliks tucked her head down again, hoping the cloak would conceal her.

"Now, I may be no tracker, crusader, but if I could find your little hole, you can be certain that at least that Beblith could, let alone that Katpaskir." The voice was a woman's, quiet and soft, sultry even. She drew out words like they were precious baubles to fancy and then moved onto the next and the next.

'So that is what attacked us.' Bliks thought. In the confusion she hadn't even considered trying to think about what it was, only how to survive it. Now she thought about this stranger outside her hiding place, 'A woman, alone in the worldwound, sultry voice … perhaps …'

The lovely voice of the stranger interrupted her train of thought, "Now we'd best get going. I'm sorry, but I think all your friends are dead and I wouldn't want either one of us to join them." The stranger stepped closer to where Bliks was huddled. There was a ruffle of cloth and leather, and now the voice was coming from just a few feet in front of her; the stranger was crouching down in this optimistically water slicked gully, just out of reach.

The stranger sighed. "We don't have a lot of time for me to convince you that I'm not going to hurt you, so how about you take this trinket." Into her downcast cone of vision Bliks could see a gloved hand holding a small, silver and turquoise butterfly in its palm. "Take it and think of your goddess. Or god. Or if you don't have a personal one, think of one you've heard about. Being around crusaders you must have heard of at least a few."

The brown glove moved forward, brushing against the folds of Bliks' cloak but stopping there. "Come now. There's no trick. I swear by the name of Lady Luck herself that it will not hurt you." The glove playfully bounced up and down a bit, lifting the delicate holy symbol into the air for a moment. Taking in a breath, Bliks snatched it, and held it under her cloak.

Looking at the fine work of the butterfly, Bliks felt no force of compulsion wash over her or any assault upon her senses. She felt only the silvery threads start to melt in her hand, squeezing together first into a simple lump of metal, and then into a miniature bronze mask with a gear imprinted on the forehead. The Whisperer in Bronze.

Her eyes now cleared from her earlier crying, she looked at the stranger in front of her. Two kind brown eyes looked out from under a shock of short black hair, uncovered in the sprinkling of insects all around them, but clear of their bodies. On either cheek she sported the simple outline of a blue butterfly wing tattoo, starting at her ear and curving down to her jaw. The stranger smiled. "Brigh? You're the first crusader I've met with her as your patron." At first glance her garb and gear suggested she was a ranger, perhaps a guide. She wore leather armour with a relatively high collar, predominately in blue with gold and silver highlights, but wore plain leather thigh high boots with added additional strips of leather to cushion blows. Festooned about her waist was a row of dangling strips of blue cloth like a skirt worn over but complimenting her armour, and strapped to her back was a composite longbow.

"Let's go then!" The stranger said reaching for Bliks' hand. Her grip was strong and easily pulled the young wizard to her feet, and despite Bliks being taller than most human women, the stranger was just a little bit taller than that. And yet she looked altogether like a Chelaxian noble, wholly unlike her strength and stature suggested as a Ulfen barbarian. "We're not too far from the border. Alas, not close enough for your friends."

"Seven days." She said as Mahir added supplies to her pack. "Dad. Dad! That's too much!" The memory snapped back to Bliks as the stranger led her further down the gully to an indention that gave them access to higher ground. He had looked at her sternly. "Better to be prepared. And remember, don't just grab what you need, make a show of rummaging."

That morning had been day six. They had marched out for three days, slaying demons along the way, camped for a day, making notes on the changes to the local terrain, and were on their way back. By any standard she was just a retainer, providing for minor spells to make life on the trail more tolerable, as well as an extra pair of eyes and ears. Each crusader had carried a pack of their own gear, so they had no additional servants, 'No fat in the Worldwound' one of them had said. And it was a chance for her to see the Order at work in the field, perhaps to clinch her joining their ranks.

The rain of insects stopped an hour later as the sun finally fully crested the horizon. The ground the ranger steered them onto was less disturbing to walk on than that of the gully, but they still paused from time to time as the earth shuddered from some distant undulation or cataclysm. Mostly they walked in silence, with the ranger pointing out some danger here or there, but Bliks merely nodded or shook her head in response. She could feel a great burden weighing down on her, to return to Kenabres, to tell the tale of her lost companions. Too many had been lost in this vast wasteland without any word as to their fate for Bliks to die because she missed some important detail after lowering her guard.

By her reckoning, Bliks figured they must be close to the West Sellen, but still hadn't spied it yet. Her crusader companions had come down from the vast plateau that made up most of the Wounded Lands the day before, but without their guidance and in the hands of a stranger, Bliks wasn't sure where exactly she was headed. The ranger seemed to know her way intimately through this area, and the symbol had formed into that of Desna's worshipful, but she could still be part of some offshoot cult. The idea of dealing with some madmen who had twisted Desna's teachings into something more akin to nightmares than the dreams she was a patron of was too much for Bliks to handle at this time, so she pushed it aside in favour of blind hope.

Stopping for lunch at a copse of dead trees, the ranger first scouted the area as Bliks retrieved her supplies. Returning with a lightness in her step, the ranger grinned at Bliks' offer of trail rations. "You might find this surprising, but I'm so … glad … that I found you. I have been travelling alone for so long, I thank Desna for allowing our paths to cross." Bliks wondered at the pause around the word 'glad', thinking what other word the ranger had intended to use. "But neither of us has been open about who we are. Perhaps that too is Desna's will, as travelers are often strangers." The ranger unenthusiastically nibbled on the rations as if already satiated on something else. Had she been eating on the trail and Bliks had merely not noticed? Even still, the ranger's voice was smooth and calming, unhurried even. "Somewhere in your tale you'll have to fit me in, and a character should have a name."

A mischevious smile crossed the ranger's face again which made Bliks think 'How can she be so happy, so unconcerned in this place?'

"How about you call me … Dreams in the Dark?", the ranger finally concluded, "And in my telling of your tale I will call you … Little Breeze." The taller woman reached out and ran a finger over a strand of Bliks' hair, caught forever in an unseen wind. Looking seriously at Bliks, Dreams in the Dark said "Before today, I'd never met a sylph before. Your parents must be quite the couple!" At that Bliks averted her gaze, turning to look where she thought east was. The sun had been no help, having split in two and roamed randomly across the sky as she had been warned was common across the entire Worldwound.

After a long pause, Dreams in the Dark broke the silence, "Alright. I've had enough, are you ready?" offering to help Bliks up again. It had become a bit of a pattern, with the ranger striding confidently ahead, tackling rises and elevations with ease, then pulling Bliks up after her. Dreams was remarkably strong for her stature and Bliks considered that she might use that to great effect, if not to throw her enemies off balance, but to perhaps merely get drinks from easily shamed overly masculine men.

At what appeared to be mid-afternoon, Dreams increased their pace without explanation, and Bliks struggled to keep up. Something seemed to be driving the ranger forward, but whether it was something ahead or behind, Bliks could not be sure; her furtive glances backwards showed no pursuit or activity that was unusual even for this cursed place. The idea that Dreams had planted in her that the demon that had scourged her camp might be on her trail still lingered.

"Come, come!" Dreams urged Bliks on from a small rise. The ranger had marched Bliks to the point of exhaustion without showing any sign of fatigue herself. It seemed to Bliks, that they had reached the end of this day's journey, so she pushed herself to make it up this last little hill. It was quite a view Dreams had found for them, looking assuredly to the east as a thin ribbon of river, the West Sellen, could be seen several more hours march away. And at the edge of her vision, she could make out a sharp rise and needles on the horizon, which must have been Kenabres. Seeing her drink in the distant hope, Dreams added, "That isn't the best part. Look to the north, as far as you can, just to the right of the dark clouds."

Bliks strained to see what Dreams was referring to, but could only see a distinct line in the sky where the pollution of the Abyss ended and the free air of Golarion began. She looked back at Dreams, who only smiled and pointed, adding "Just wait."

Then the unnatural suns slipped below the horizon to her left, and there was a sudden flash of light. The final rays of sunlight touched the far shore of the Sellen, which glowed in a wide band of glittering light. In all the months she had lived in Kenabres she had never seen its like. "The crusaders rarely see it, but for us, on this side of the river, it is a reminder of the persistent power of the wardstones, long may they stand." Dreams said with some satisfaction and joy. "Now you MUST be exhausted! Rest and I will prepare camp."

Bliks gladly turned over her pack, but Dreams seemed to be oblivious, setting up a small tent, bedroll, and blanket from her own low slung pack, then left shortly to gather firewood and expertly started a campfire. This shocked Bliks as the crusaders had had a strict no open flame policy lest they attract undo attention, but to this point she had put her trust in Dreams so another dollop was a willing gift, especially to get the warmth and comfort of fire. Using a mixture of their supplies, she put together a palatable gruel, which filled Bliks' stomach and spirit. The ranger finished her outpouring of generosity by offering to take the first watch, "For rarely have I had anyone to keep watch for nor to keep watch for me while I slept."

Before she slipped into sleep, Bliks could hear Dreams pacing outside of her one person tent. To that point Dreams hadn't shown any kind of nervous energy before, she had been very calm but focused on guiding Bliks to the border of the Worldwound. For some time, this worried her, as if something could be upsetting Dreams, perhaps it was a threat to Bliks as well? Then the fatigue of the long day and its painful beginning took the last of Bliks' willpower, and she faded into unconsciousness.

That night Bliks dreamed that she was a great bird, born from her own chest. Looking at her wings, she could not tell if they were feathery or leather, but that didn't seem to matter, only that they let her fly. She flew about a hill on fire and then dove into a giant iron keep. Next she found herself in the middle of a great plain, with winds blowing her in every direction, like she was feather in a gale. Her only escape was to fly up, into the sky, where she saw Dreams by the fire, stirring the gruel, then stopping, her chest opening like a set of doors, and inside was a small bird, just like Bliks was, flying around a vast space.

Dreams lightly shook Bliks awake, quietly calling out "Little Breeze … Little Breeze? Time for your watch." Bliks pulled on her robes and crawled out of the tent. The fire was out, whether Dreams had put it out or it went out on its own accord, she could not tell. But her darkvision would hardly have been helped by the addition of mundane lights. "Did you sleep well?" Dreams asked, loosening the straps on her armour. Many of the crusaders also slept in their armour, but Bliks merely nodded in response to Dreams' question. After entering the tent Dreams added, "Did you … dream? No, please don't answer that. Best not to risk Lady Luck's gifts."

After studying her spells, Bliks thought about her travelling companion. Dreams was perhaps even just that, a dream made manifest. When she most needed guidance, she got a guide. And the rest of her characteristics: impressively strong, remarkable endurance, unflinching in the madness of the Worldwound, beautiful in body and voice, all seemed to be outer worldly. Then there were the small things, like she hardly touched her food at either lunch or dinner, and seemed to sense what Bliks was worried about. 'Perhaps she's just a figment of your imagination', Bliks thought to herself as she found a less uncomfortable position to sit in on the only comfortable rock she could find. 'Something you've conjured up to give you the confidence to make it back home.'

Then the paranoia set in, something all crusaders were drilled about. 'Perhaps she's not a godsend at all, perhaps she's a demon. Perhaps she wants me to slip her into Kenabres so she can corrupt the crusade from within! Demons can read minds, don't need to eat and … don't need to sleep. But does that mean they can't sleep?' Bliks glanced towards the small tent. 'What should I expect, to see Dreams lying there with her eyes open? Or closed and just pretending? How would I know?'

"Breeze, be very still, they're almost at our camp." Bliks could barely hear Dreams' whisper, but froze in place nonetheless. "I wish I could have led you all the way. When I draw them off, make for the crusader encampment." Then the tip of an arrow slid out through the flap of the tent and Bliks could hear the tightening of a bowstring behind it. Dreams muttered something in a guttural language Bliks didn't understand, spat, and then let loose the arrow. It flicked past Bliks' head and was followed by a sharp tap, a quiet gurgle, and the collapse of a body. Turning about, Bliks could just make out a half naked figure with a pentagram tattooed on his forehead and an arrow jutting out of his throat.

"Let me give you … Desna's blessing." Dreams said with some urgency as she climbed completely out of the tent as Bliks tightened a strap on her backpack. Laying a hand on Bliks's forehead, Dreams whispered a few words that sounded like the snippets of Celestial she had heard priests using, and then unexpectedly hugged her close. In that moment Bliks could feel a strength rise in her, a clearer sense of purpose and direction. Then Dreams held her at arms length, smiled into Bliks' worried face, and said "Don't fret Little Breeze, I know these lands well." She reached into her quiver, quickly selecting a flight arrow, and steadied her aim. "Now run." And so Bliks ran, hearing once again the screams of battle fading behind her.

She slowed her pace to a jog once she couldn't hear anything else, and so carried on until just after sunrise. The crusaders holding that small landing spot across from the city of Kenabres said they had seen a figure in silver, rising into the clouds, raining fire down into the Worldwound. They said it was a good sign. Bliks didn't say anything.

With a start she woke, her bed unexpectedly soaked with sweat. She hadn't had that nightmare in years, long before she ever came to Numeria for any real length of time. But it felt so real … so unlike the usual snippets of running, screams, worms, sickening smells. Then she saw a blue luminescence outside of her window. Ghartone's former chambers in the Palace of Fallen Stars hadn't included a window or a balcony, but the place had been built more as a fortress against a rebellious population than for comfort. Bliks had made a few adjustments, something easily accomplished with a grasp of engineering and access to both Stone Shape and Wall of Stone spells.

The air outside was still cold and her gown did little to keep her warm, but she felt the chill focusing her thoughts and keeping her alert. The source of the luminescence was no surprise to the wizard, as she looked up at the massive translucent moth perched on the edge of her balcony. "Longdreamer. What WAS that?" The great creature tilted its head to one side, seemingly pointing to its long tail tipped with what looked like peacock feathers. Gracefully they floated towards Bliks before she roughly snatched them out of the air.

'How DARE you.' Then flung the feathers away, breaking the telepathic connection. "Guardian of dreams indeed." She spat at the beast, as it recoiled slightly. "Have you any idea, ANY idea, how long it took me to get over that? And then here you come, and make me relive it in every detail. I may no longer be that overzealous young woman, but you have no right to force a NIGHTMARE on me."

She swept back inside her apartment and began dressing for the day, even if only to address this one guest. Without looking she slipped on the holy symbol of Brigh, only to notice that it felt differently against her skin. Instead of the feminine mask, it had taken the form of a butterfly. She looked towards the window, where Longdreamer still sat.

This time she took a seat in one of the chairs on the balcony, and offered her hand to Longdreamer's telepathic touch. 'I'm sorry for that, for it, but I was sent. I resisted, but I was told it was necessary. Ours is not the kingdom of nightmares.' To which Bliks couldn't help but resist replying 'It certainly felt like a nightmare' Longdreamer paused to let Bliks finish, then continued, 'What could have been a nightmare for you was a dream for another. And all the dreams are our responsibility.'

Bliks stood, keeping Longdreamer's feather in her hand, walking to the railing and looking out over the mostly quiet streets of Starfall. 'Who would consider that a dream? People died. GOOD people. Needlessly. I lived, but as a coward. And then I hallucinated a perfect protector.'

When Longdreamer rested one of its claws on Bliks' shoulder, she jumped slightly, then patted her free hand on top of its. As much as she had hated that experience, Bliks knew Longdreamer didn't have a cruel organ in its body, and she was glad at least to have it here, for someone to talk to, and Longdreamer was a great listener. 'What hallucination?'

'Dreams in the Dark of course. Obviously I had had a trauma and created a surrogate mother figure, one who went missing in the Worldwound before I ever really knew her, and then came to my rescue when I needed her most.' She fingered the still butterfly shaped Lesser Malleable Symbol hanging around her neck. 'I even picked this up, giving me a reason to carry onto Kenabres. The clerics of Iomedae said it must have been an angel, sent to guide me back, but why wouldn't it have just carried me or done something far more impressive than walk with me for less than a day?' Bliks looked back out over the city. 'I gave up on mystical even magical solutions to the Worldwound that day. I saw what little even holy priests could do in the face of evil. That's when I started looking for alternatives, which led me here.' It felt like a confessional.

'Are not all dreams hallucinations in the dark?'

Puzzled, Bliks looked at the creature. Was its thinking so alien as to have missed what she had just told it? 'Yes. No, I meant the person, my guide, the ranger. What are you getting at? And, I'm sorry, but truly, what WAS that? It wasn't like any dream or nightmare I've ever had. It felt too … real.'

'We need the hope that this dream existed, even if it was not yours.'

'Need? As in present tense? What do you need it for?'

'We need the dark dreamer. We took you to the Dimension of Dreams. You were safe, but it was real.'

'What was real? The nightmare I just went through? Or the memory?'

'Dreams in the Dark. Beyond our power, but not yours.'

'Wait wait wait.' Bliks started pacing, still holding Longdreamer's feathered tail, 'Our power? You're talking about divine intervention, aren't you? Desna, that's who sent you. That's why it was so real, so beyond any spell I could imagine casting. Wait. Back up a second. You said you 'need the hope that this dream existed'. How in the world could you …'

When Bliks had gotten up, she hadn't taken full stock of her room. Letting go of Longdreamer, she raced back into her chambers, going beyond the partition between her sleep and work spaces. There she found markings on the floor, carefully laid out ingredients, and could even sense the lingering power in the air. It would take her some time to decipher it fully, but a quick glance reminded her of a preplanned Imprisonment spell, but inverted, like some kind of ritualistic Freedom spell. A powerful one.

She stepped back from the evidence of her sleep casting a ritual of some sort. Focused, then lifted herself slightly off the ground, and drifted back outside. Reconnecting with Longdreamer's telepathic touch, Bliks waited for it to say something. When it only stared at her, she asked 'Let me get this straight. You needed me to experience that hallucination in the Dimension of Dreams so that someone else could experience that specific dream, which would give them hope, which you would in turn use, through me, to free them?'

'We could not use a hallucination, we could only use the reality. Yours was the reality. Yours was the nightmare. Hers was the reality. Hers was the dream. Hers was the hope. Yours was the means.'

Bliks shook slightly, dropped the telepathic connection, held her arms close around her chest, and said quietly to Longdreamer, "Dreams in the Dark, my guide, the ranger, the woman I've believed for the last decade was a figment of trauma, is … real?"


	4. Finalities without end

While Eryno had never gone so far as to replace his limbs with cybernetics, his body was replete with scars and pieces of the Androffan technology poking through. Not that he hadn't had the opportunity; there had been the option of replacing both of his arms, shoulders, and much of his spine with the Arms of the Iron God, a terrifying amalgam of cybernetic weapons and enhancements, but the idea of having something grafted into his skin that had been a sacred relic of Unity repulsed him. "It ain't worth it. If it were stronger, gave me something that I can't already do, maybe. But no way I'm getting my arms lopped off for that."

"But you did have your heart replaced," Bliks cajoled, as they added the artefact to the rest of their loot. "Cracked your ribcage right open, ripped it right out, stuffed a mechanical one in. What's a pair of arms compared to your heart? Some would say you lost the seat of your soul!"

"Yeah, well that's different. This Androffan stuff sure is useful, better sometimes than your magic, no insult intended, and that didn't have It's fingers all over it. And I've died and come back since I got that organ upgrade, so, yeah." They had been still aboard the wreck of the Divinity, searching out and eliminating Unity's allies and followers one by one. It had been a tense time, knowing that Unity was up to something, but not being entirely sure what its plan was.

But now it was over a year later and Eryno had stripped to the waist so he could don his powered armour. They had recovered it from the Divinity and had proven critical in their final battle against Unity's last refuge in its Overlord Robot and further showed neither a connection to the evil aspiring godling nor any other lingering side effects. After that fateful day, Eryno had taken it off, asking Bliks to store it until he needed it again, not calling on it until today.

Even those who knew that it existed considered that he didn't need it; his body was a marvel. Throughout his limbs were wires that heightened his reflexes, shining through as a network of silver and green lines just under his skin but diving deep into his muscles. Under his chest lay few original organs, some replaced to increase his combat usefulness, some after near fatal encounters. While he didn't share the Kellid tendency to retain scars, these scars wouldn't have been considered worth of retention anyway; only battle scars were prized, these would be considered self inflected and without honour. Unlike Bliks, he retained his original eyes, but his ears were no longer the slightly pointed variety that would belie his half-elven heritage, but now plain silver arcs. Little could be said near Numeria's Spymaster without his hearing, but as he was a master of infiltration, few knew to guard their tongues.

On top of those augmentations, his relentless exercise routine combined with regular forays into the Numerian wilds kept him sharp and lean. None of the fat that often came with leadership clung to his frame and in that Bliks was envious. Her work as Magister and Chancellor meant many long sedentary hours and with her supernatural flight, she had to make a conscious effort to exercise. Even though they had a mixture of fear and respect for her, the native Kellid tribes would certainly despise her if she began to show weakness like so many of the Technic League before their elimination. Long had been their disgust at the city dwellers for not testing themselves against the dangers endemic to Numeria.

Now they were deep under the Place of Fallen Stars, in a stronghold built to house the dangerous and useful items they had found in Silver Mount that Bliks had decided the Numerian Institute of Technology was not yet ready to study. Lined with lead and skymetal, she had done the excavation and construction herself so that no workers could pass on its location or description. Wards, both arcane and divine were mixed with technological fields to obscure and block access to it from anyone not authorized by Bliks herself. With it taking at least a few minutes for Eryno to not only get into the suit, but to run through a series of basic checks, Bliks reached out to her companions via their shared radio link.

'Are you certain we shouldn't bring at least a handful of guards Hex? I'm sure Lord Hulrun would understand a visiting monarch having a few personal retainers.'

'We've been through this. We're arriving without notice, coming heavily armed', the android pointed to Eryno strapping on the leg units, 'and our relationship with Mendev is still uncertain.' Hex walked over to a large shrouded object and lifted its canvas covering. 'The power transmitter? I wasn't aware you had moved it here from Torch.'

Eryno stopped clipping one of the thigh plates to look over at the Black Sovereign, 'Cut her some slack Hex, it's not like we've been in town much.' Hex caught Eryno's gaze and nodded. Bliks hadn't even been paying attention and yet could almost hear their physical movements over the link.

'And why cover everything? I thought this place was impregnable.' Hex mused again, this time directing his thoughts towards Bliks. Even though it was an open channel, there were tags added to each transmission, unconsciously indicating who should most pay attention to any message.

Bliks sighed, audibly and over the link. 'That's to deal with Yarahkuts.' Sensing their curiosity and impending questions she continued 'They're a kind of Inevitable, constructs from Axis. The Axiomites send them out to get rid of things they think are beyond the ability for their owners to control.' Glancing around the room, she noted nothing in their shared ownership that she didn't know how to control. How it worked, how to repair, how to recreate, those were different questions. 'Neither the Technic League nor the Kellid tribes seemed to see much interference from them, considering all the accidents and proliferation of Androffan technology, but I felt we shouldn't be careless.'

She pointed down the length of the chamber to a stationary giant, 'That's also why I have Ex Ah You Three Un Three stationed here. I think you'd find a Yarahkut a challenge Hex, they make ranged weapons malfunction, but Eryno or Three Un three wouldn't have too much trouble.' She didn't add that she had enchanted XAU-3-UN-3's fists with anarchic energies. That had been a bit of a feat, trying to meld arcane powers that naturally wanted to disassemble everything they came in contact with to a machine whose nature was one of strict orders and programming.

'Oh yes, why the canvas.' While Bliks knew that Eryno had likely stopped listening to their conversation, Hex would want an answer to his question. It had been a subtle change in him since becoming Black Sovereign, but his persistence paid off with his less than forthright advisors. 'They can break things down just by looking at them. Not disintegration, from what I've researched, but thorough dismantling.' Bliks whimsically looked under a nearby cloth to check the status of the covered Vortex Gun and then concluded, 'Frankly, I wish I could get one on our payroll, if nothing else but to take apart items we have to spare so we could see all of their components, without having to risk breaking them.'

Even though Eryno had yet to secure the powered armour's chest plate, it held itself in place, waiting for his attention, small thrusters buffeting the air around him as he fussed with the back plate. 'I presume you haven't changed your mind about the Heilige Cohort, Hex?' There wasn't a lot of doubt in her mind, but sometimes she couldn't predict her android companion's state of mind, even with the link.

'It's only reasonable. And it secures the Blades of Aaramor's loyalty. What is your concern?' Hex fired back quickly over the link.

Bliks paused to consider and then replied, 'I thought your reluctance to bring guards might be part of a broader consideration. If Mendev would react poorly to a few guards, surely a few hundred soldiers marching on their border might be seen in a similar light.' She didn't add that hundreds of soldiers from all across Avistan if not Golarion marched into Mendev every day, crusaders heading to the front to fight demons in the so called Mendevian Crusades. Historically Numeria had profited from these travelling crusaders but rarely contributed to them, aside from the Blades of Aaramor on the Worldwound's border and permitting the Knights of Urion to establish a foothold to guard that leg of the West Sellen.

'They will welcome our help, if what you fear is true.' Hex said eventually. 'They will need all the help they can get.'

Eryno had gotten both arms up and running now and only needed to attach the helmet to complete the seal and fully enclose him. 'I couldn't tell,' he said over the link, 'did you end up doing those enchantments I asked for? You know, to offset its, well, thumpiness?' Bliks glared at the half-elf, his abuse of Teldane surely intentional as soon as she saw his typical lopsided grin.

Knowing how much he enjoyed getting a rise out of her, Bliks just sighed and replied, 'Yes, and some extras you didn't ask for but I thought might keep you from visiting Pharasma again.' Of their trio, only Hex had never been temporarily dead and by far Eryno had had the worst of it. 'Try it out, and hear for yourself.'

Snapping the helmet in place, Eryno looked like a miniature version of the Juggernaut Robot XAU-3-UN-3, a similarity that hadn't dawned on Bliks until she could just now see both of them at the same time. The powered armour took a step and came down with barely a tap on the metal floor, despite it weighing several hundred pounds. 'Aw neat!' Eryno cried over the link. He then took it on a quick run down the length of the chamber and the lack of accompanying foot falls did seem unnaturally out of place, but such was the nature of magic, breaking the bonds of the expected.

"All is in order, Chancellor Volgeling." Up till that moment, the Director Robot had been stationary, not even addressing them when they had arrived. TAU-3-UN-25 had been brought down here specifically to maintain a catalogue on the various articles Bliks had secured, but with so few and infrequent visitors, it had little opportunity to integrate its interpersonal subroutines. The Androffans must have preferred their robots to act like machines, even speak like them, and so Bliks' additional programming didn't always take root as well as she would have liked.

Hex walked over to the thing, looking slightly up at it even though it had not lifted itself off the ground. "Director Robot, report."

"TAU-3-UN-25. Androffan archive. Last inventory, five min … two seconds ago. Number of iterations on disassembly procedure, thirty eight."

Hex gave Bliks a curious look, sending 'What does it mean disassembly procedure?' His tone over the link became stern, if that was even possible for the android, 'You're not letting it experiment on these artifacts are you?'

'This is my first hearing of it. It has specific orders not to interact with any of the items stored here, only to observe any work I do here and keep a catalogue.' Bliks replied almost apologetically. She then added, 'And sometimes acting as an interface with the Juggernaut, you know how difficult talking to one of those things can be.' Out loud she continued, addressing the robot "Explain disassembly procedure."

"Standard procedure is to first detach housing A6 by disengaging locks N1 through N3 inclusive. Once power port has been exposed …" the machine began, the description sounding to Bliks like it was reading one of the many manuals she had recovered on Androffan robots.

Bliks interrupted it, "Stop. What do you mean 'iterations on disassembly procedure'?"

"Access to archived equipment banned. Access to external environment blocked. Programming demands refinement, research, discovery. RNU-1 available. Variations of disassembly procedure for RNU-1 possible. Repeated disassembly provides insight, refinement to standard procedure. Goal, optimize disassembly procedure."

'I think,' Eryno chimed in, 'It's talking about this.' He was still down the length of the chamber, but now gesturing to some open work station. Bliks looked at Hex who shrugged and together they walked the short distance to where the powered armour clad ranger stood.

Had the Observer Robot been a living creature, it surely would have been a grotesque sight, but being a machine, seeing it half dismantled was far less disturbing. That it was still somewhat functional, three of its legs sporadically flailing at the air, its sensor module dimmed but still moving in its housing, gave it a sense of the macabre. 'Got bored, I guess.' Eryno said over the link. Director Robots were quite intelligent and aware, but Bliks had never imagined it would have a need to work, even if there was no apparent work that needed to be done.

She rubbed her forehead, 'I thought it just shut down between visits, to conserve power, I hadn't imagined this.'

'Is it a problem?' Hex asked.

'Straight to the point' Bliks thought. Over the link she replied, 'No, Sovereign, I don't think it's a problem, at least not in this case. But had we left it down here with a living creature, I can imagine it might consider learning how best to heal them by repeatedly harming them and then putting them back together. I suspect it'd justify it by saying it did no lasting physical harm and was expanding the range of knowledge on how to treat injury.'

'Ugh.' Eryno sounded like he was dramatically retching over the link, and then suddenly added 'Hey, we've got these things all over the place, are we going to see one of them go crazy and start chopping people up?'

'I don't think so.' Bliks replied hopefully, 'This is an isolated case of a literally isolated robot. All of our other Director Robots are engaged in daily challenges or tasks, and I believe their need for refinement, as it said, is satisfied. But,' she added, now addressing Hex, 'I will pass this concern onto the Numerian Institute of Technology and the Church of Brigh, so they can better monitor our robot compatriots. And I'll bring down unprocessed materials for this unit to work on. I'd hate to see if it decided that the Juggernaut needed to be better understood by a similar disassembly procedure.'

'The big guy would probably just crush 'im.' Eryno joked, 'I mean, it's all I've ever see 'em do.'

'You're probably right too.' Bliks sent back. 'Juggernauts are pretty single minded.' With that, she gestured towards the exit alcove and she and her compatriots started to make their way out of the underground warehouse. While she didn't say anything, she did steer them away from not only the more dangerous items they had stored there, but also ones that she hadn't told them she had stored there.

There was the Temporal Accelerator, a kind of vertical belt that attached to the back of one's neck, that'd artificially slow down time for its user but put such a strain on both mind and body Bliks was certain it shorted one's lifespan. A canister filled with precious Horacalcum in its raw state, subtly twisting the fabric of time around it. The dangerous ooze like creature made entirely of self replicating nanites the locals had dubbed Grey Goo. High end Lock Coders, to keep prismatic access cards from falling into the hands of those who might get into places they couldn't handle. A pair of intact Clonepods. The multipurpose Autodoc, that while she was confident it shouldn't cause harm, that it had the potential to essentially melt any patient put inside of it gave her pause. Drawers filled with various cybernetics, waiting for the Numerian Institute of Technology to first master their lesser varieties. And then the armoury of Nuclear, Gravity, Atom, and Death guns, all carefully packed and locked away, even in this highly secured vault. She had told them both about all of those things, even though Hex did object to keeping a 'live' subject in the form of the ooze, he consented when she convinced him that without study, they'd be impossible to contain in the future.

Then there were the things she hadn't yet revealed to them, like the massive Extinction Wave Device. Seeing as the Divinity seemed to have been an exploration vessel, why they would need such a powerful weapon was beyond her reckoning to date. That the Androffans had even called it a 'clean bomb' made her wonder if they were merely comparing it to conventional bombs that destroyed everything or that it cleaned its blast radius of all life. The Rebirthing Chamber suggested all sorts of abuse by vain rulers to extend their reign indefinitely or the similarly dangerous Psychic Imprinter that didn't kill its victim but merely wrote over every thought and memory they had, essentially making them into the person whose mind it had stored.

Finally there were the wrecks; every piece she could find of Hellion, the projector system that had created Deacon Hope, and Unity's Overlord Robot. That Hellion had been a mere Arachnid Robot, the meekest of the entire line that the Androffans had made, but had yet somehow attained some spark of godhood, was enough for to pique Bliks' curiosity. In Deacon Hope she sought to understand how divine energies interfaced with that holographic system to actually make a self aware being. But most concerning of all was the last, a towering unique construct, imbued with abilities far beyond any other robot suggested more of Unity's technical brilliance than that of the Androffans. Being able to compare the two methods of construction she hoped would be enlightening, so long as she could assure herself that Unity itself would not be reborn in her tinkering.

Clear of the chamber, they stepped into the small exit alcove magically cut out of the rock such that it looked like a set of giant hands had formed it out of clay, then transmuted it back to solid stone. Pressing her hand against a spiral glyph on the wall, the matching birthmark on her chest glowed just enough for the others to see, and then Eryno started to comically scream over their link. At least in his mind it was comedic; Hex didn't seem to react and Bliks just winced. 'This is her plan you know! It's not a teleportation platform; it's going to disintegrate us!' Bliks couldn't tell if he saw her withering glance but once the spell's power reached its zenith, he quieted down and they all reappeared in one of the deepest chambers below the Bronze Cathedral, site of the former Technic League Headquarters.

Eryno strode out the double doors leading from this now bare room, the powered armour lengthening his stride, while Hex followed a few paces behind. Remaining behind to secure the platform, Bliks considered how many Numerians had been tortured in this room at the hands of the Kytons that had been allowed to take up residence here. Gone were the blades, mounted body parts, even harvested skin. She had even called in a priest of Pharasma to confirm that there were no lingering souls. Now it was just an empty chamber, still lit with technology taken from some Androffan ruin, but nondescript, as Bliks had wanted it.

'Do you want us to hold the elevator for you?' Hex asked over the link. She had lingered longer than she had wanted, her memories of this place seemingly raw.

'Yes, I wouldn't want us to arrive separately for the blessings.' Bliks replied. To herself she thought, 'Perhaps in digging up that one memory, Longdreamer … or Desna? … had given others greater contrast. I'll have to research that.' She felt she had a lot yet to research, with that ritual circle still undisturbed in her chambers, all the devices in the vault. 'And yet now I'm out of time.'

No acolytes of Brigh came down to this floor as there was little here of use, so it was of no surprise that she didn't encounter any as she caught up with Hex and Eryno. In time they would expand their operations to perhaps use these chambers for storage, but there were no labs, no forges, nothing for the faithful to create with. A few might wish to study the seemingly self sustaining underground jungle that had sprung up under the reactor that Eryno had seemingly blown up when they destroyed the Technic League, but that would likely interest followers of Erastil, Gozreh, or even the Green Faith, not those of invention.

As the elevator ascended, they passed through the underground botanical garden which, unlike the underground jungle, was an area of activity and research. While no one was currently present, acolytes would occasionally call on local druids to aid their creation of new strains of plants or in testing new techniques for grafting one plant to another. After objections surrounding the cultivation of truly alien plants, like those developed by Paeytr Mercanin in the Scar of the Spider, Bliks had erected a unidirectional transparent wall cutting off the east third of the room, so that the plants could still share in the central lighting but not directly bother the sensibilities of guests.

The lift was swift, though, so they soon found themselves in a small underground hanger that was used to store and service their small squadron of Myrmidon robots. A pair of acolytes was busying themselves with replacing munitions as the trio continued to ascend, while three of the nominally flying robots awaited orders, crouched on their barely functional tripod of legs.

Their final stop was a room in a flurry of activity, as it was at nearly every hour of the day. Here the Technic League had setup a fully functional production laboratory for the study of Androffan technology, and the Church of Brigh continued to use it for that purpose. Plates were carefully cut away or removed with specialized tools as robots were examined, repaired, or reprogrammed. The few that did get loose did little harm, as a universal rule of disarmament before reactivation prevented the same sort of troubles that routinely plagued the League. After Eryno had gained access to the mainframe on the Divinity, collecting and repurposing wayward robots had become almost trivial, but Bliks tried to personally oversee any operation involving the more dangerous ones that still prowled Numeria. From time to time this would put her in conflict with Xol-Nomag and the rest of her Ghost Wolf tribe, as they sought to exterminate any uncooperative robot, but upcoming events Bliks hoped would quell even that tendency.

Immediately upon entering the vestibule of the church from the workshop, they were set upon by a small army of retainers. Calls for the Black Sovereign's attention to this or that petty issue, as well as a stream of flattery mixed in the air until Eryno scattered them before his skymetal bulk and the adventurers were able to exit into the mid-day sun. Still the servants and hangers on clustered in behind the Black Sovereign to the point that Bliks floated above their heads so as to not be constantly jostled.

"This is what you have to look forward to Xol." Hex said, raising his voice above the din. The chieftess of the Ghost Wolf tribe dipped her head slightly, turning her palms upwards in recognition of the Black Sovereign's rank. With the institution of Andoran's Common Rule, the change to the traditional supplication to the Black Sovereign had been sometimes forcefully enforced, but with Xol-Nomag it had taken little convincing to reduce it to a mere nod.

The stern and powerfully built woman had resisted Hex's claim to the throne, saying that "We will never be ruled by an abomination from the life-ending ruins! One who would strike down a true warrior from afar with a foreigner's weapon of fire and thunder does not deserve our allegiance!" or so Bliks had been told. Facing her in single combat, Hex had deftly avoided her spiked quarter staff for a few moments before breaking the weapon in half with a series of well placed, point blank shots from his revolver. When the barbarian lunged at him with a knife, he let her pass and shot her in the leg, this time using a different but blindly swapped out pistol. No blood came from the wound as there was no wound, only a bruise and numbness, like she had been struck soundly with the palm of an assailant's hand. Her tribe had no fear or hatred of magic, so its use in this duel was not dishonourable, but it still brought the woman's blood to boil and she rushed at the android again. This time he carefully backpedalled as quickly as she could charge, firing non-lethal round after non-lethal round, her armour having little protection against such a fusillade.

In the end, she collapsed, preparing for a fatal blow, brought low not by wounds but by fatigue. Hex merely stood silent as the rest of the Ghost Wolves were silent, waiting for her to regain her feet. Whispers began to circulate through the gathered tribeswomen and men, that their ferocious chieftess was about to die at the hands of this artificial creature, some even suggesting they abandon the rites of the duel to overwhelm this self proclaimed Black Sovereign. Then the tattoo like circuitry covering Hex's skin began to glow and he swapped out a third firearm, this time turning it on the crowd. Moments later those who had begun to push into the ring felt a soft tap on their chests, as small packets of dye broke open and coloured their armour where a bullet could have landed.

He then asked for her aid. Her aid in quelling the dangerous Sunder Horns who preyed upon her tribe's eastern border and the Blood Gars who choked the trade along their western border. Her aid in removing the robots that hunted her people's land as much as they hunted the rest of Numeria. Her aid in taking the fight to the demons to the north, who had been long ignored by other Black Sovereigns. And her aid in rebuilding Numeria into a nation to be respected for its unique power and heritage, not mocked for its drug addled leadership or the scheming, secrets obsessed cabal.

And so she gave her aid.

"There are some who would enjoy such praise, Sovereign. I suspect that to a point, I will enjoy it too." Xol nodded to the now silent retainers who would soon be nipping at her heels. Part of their agreement was that Xol would be Numeria's regent, to rule in Hex's place were he to be unable to do so for some extended period of time. And while Bliks had suggested that their trip to Kenabres would be a short one, Hex had felt that it was an opportunity to show that he was willing to peacefully relinquish power, as well as giving the Ghost Wolves a better sense of the challenge of balancing the demands of the Tribal and People's councils, a Numerian adoption of Common Rule. "But there is only so much talk that these might have in them before I begin to demand thought or better, action." Her smile drove the retainers back a few steps.

Bliks selection of Cythrul, an alien witchwyrd from the southern Numerian city of Hajoth Hakados, as her replacement as Magister, was unsurprising. The foremost expert in Numeria and perhaps all of Avistan on skymetals, the merchant had happily accepted the offer, with no objection from either the Numerian Institute of Technology or the Church of Brigh, so well was she respected. She was not, however, present at this ceremony, having questioned Bliks as to whether it was necessary for her to attend as part of her duties. As it was not, Cythrul was instead busying herself, familiarizing herself with the staff she would have to administer while Bliks was away. So too was there a notable absence of Numerian Institute of Technology members at this blessing, but Bliks hoped that would help create a sense of different areas of importance, and that not all Numerian institutions must be present for all state affairs.

When asked who his replacement would be, Eryno blithely remarked "What kind of Spymaster would I be if I told you who would be the next Spymaster?"

The scaffold had not yet been taken down in the parade square between the palace and the cathedral, but the ground had been raked and new stones added so that it had returned to an ordered field without the marks of foot traffic. Waiting for them, in addition to a handful of members from both councils, were the heads of the seven major faiths in Starfall, each prepared to bless the adventurers before their journey abroad. Eryno had wondered why this was necessary, 'I mean, if Bliks is right and we're just there and back, what's the point? It's not like we're actually joining the crusade … right?'

'Forms must be obeyed.' Hex had succinctly retorted. Even if they were to leave for a day, this was an official visit by the Black Sovereign to a foreign nation, the first since he took the position. It may have been a quickly arranged and likely unannounced visit, but an official visit nonetheless. In the two previous days Bliks had tried to contact anyone she knew in power in Mendev, but had received no response, and in some cases, a distinct sense that the message hadn't even been received.

Of the seven, three of them barely stood apart, the priests and priestesses of Iomedae, Desna, and Abadar, all in long white robes, differing only in trim, gold for both Iomedae and Abadar with black for Desna, and that the Iomedaean wore a rather tall peaked gold and white cap. The rest could not have been more different. The least unusual was the priestess of Nethys, wearing a black and white shawl over common clothes and sporting a polished skullcap. Next was the priestess of Erastil who, if you had removed the fur cloak with their symbol of a bow and arrow burned into it, looked all the part of a woodsman. The priest of Brigh was only recognizable because of who they stood with, casually garbed as a tinkerer. But it was to the priest of Gorum that drew the most attention, as they wore a suit of darkly oiled spiked full plate.

The priestess of Iomedae stepped forward first, once the trio had taken their places in view of all attending. From each of Eryno's sword, Hex's revolver, and Bliks' hand she hung a weighty gold symbol of a sword surrounded by a sun, and directed the adventurers to pray for guidance from Aroden's Inheritor. That Bliks did not have a weapon seemed to give the priestess pause, but this observance wasn't intended for wizards, but for the likes of crusaders who could only strike their enemies down with steel. Next, while he spoke aloud the common formulas from Brigh's Logic of Design, the apparent tinkerer let each of them finish a part of a wind up toy; Bliks attached a gear, Eryno closed and secured the shell, and Hex wound and let it free to fly lazily about the crowd. Taking the three away from the pebble covered field, the priestess of Erastil gave each of them a seed, which they planted in recently turned earth, patting the soil back in place and marking it with a line and half arc. She even paused to check that each of them had gotten soil under their nails, much to Bliks' amusement as Eryno had to remove his gauntlet to redo the planting. The priest of Desna asked everyone present to look skyward but close their eyes, as he sung a dirge around them, naming the prominent stars in the sky. When the priest of Abadar produced a handful of gems, coins, and keys, Eryno joked over the link 'Can I keep those?' that they were each directed to place alternatively on a set of scales so they would balance. Presenting them with a blank parchment, the priestess of Nethys, makeup touching only half her face, asked them to write a word or two why someone should study magic. Finally, the stern voice from the closed helm of the Gorumite ordered them to kneel, place their weapon of choice on their shoulder, then recite their most recent victories; while they knelt he rhythmically beat a steel shield with an iron mace.

So engrossed Bliks had been in thinking of the things that might need to be done if her worst concerns about Mendev played out, she hadn't paid close attention to the attending crowd, but as they dispersed, a figure remained. An almost operatically formal black on the back but red inside cloak tied carefully at the neck had no other markings, while they wore a pair of leather workmen's pants and a breastplate of horizontal strips of leather protecting a broad, powerful chest. The old man's silver hair was cropped short, a simple military cut, and the creases in his face were deep.

Bliks embraced her father with a joy that those in the remaining crowd who cared to see was uncommon for the Androffan Witch of Numeria. "A god of civilization, another of tinkering, yet another war, and yet without Torag, they would have nothing." Mahir said at last. The wizard laughed in response, stifling it only when he drew a miniature anvil from a pouch on his belt. "Come child, sit with me, and strike the anvil, like you did years ago."

And so they sat in the middle of the field of pebbles, silent save for when each struck the small anvil with a hammer. Bliks could remember her father starting each day with this ritual, but with a working anvil, always calling her over if he caught her spying on him. There were days where she couldn't stand the sound of him working it, telling him she wished he'd stay at his desk and draft designs for others to craft to which he would reply "How would I know what can be if I do not try my own hand at it? Why should the smiths respect me if I do not understand their work?"

"The Father of Creation would be pleased. Pleased of what you have crafted yourself into. Pleased of what you have crafted, even if you do so in the name of another, you do him honour." Mahir al-Volgeling gripped his daughter's shoulders tightly, staring into her artificial eyes. "Now give me your blade."

"Come on Dad, you know I enchanted this blade myself, it won't dull."

Feigning shock, the old man held a hand to his chest, "Perhaps an aboleth came in the night and stole away its magic! Did you think of that?"

"Really, an aboleth?" Bliks looked around. "And where, pray tell, would this creature of the uncharted deep, master of the dark recesses of the ocean, live, in this dry, mostly barren, irradiated plain? There isn't a body of water big enough to put one of those things in for leagues."

"Ah, that's what they want you to think! That they need the sea, that's when they'll get you!"

Bliks laughed, burying her head in her chest, "I'm a little old for those old Outsea tales meant to keep water breather children in line."

Suddenly serious he continued, "Weren't you the one who told me those Azlanti weren't careful enough, underestimated the aboleths, bringing the Earthfall?"

"Yes, but …"

"But nothing. If you're going back … there … I want your wits about you." Ever since she had come back to Kenabres, he refused to name the place. "It's no place to let your guard down. A little caution, a little fear, will keep you sharp. Like that blade you haven't yet given me."

Knowing she couldn't leave without him at least inspecting it, pulled back her cloak so she could unclasp her dagger. Like all citizens of Starfall, she had it peace bound, wrapped in cloth bands, sealed in place with wax impressed with the seal of Numeria. Presenting it hilt first, her father nonetheless ran it across his whetstone, its edge not changing despite a few passes. Returning it, she in turn bound the dagger once more, fixing the break in the wax with a quick cantrip.

"Now." He said, a brush of emotion catching in his throat, "If you have to go into that hell … do your mother proud."

"I will. I hope its nothing, but I've got to know."

"I know. And take care of that Black Sovereign of yours. I think he's the best chance this place has had in decades."

This time it was Bliks' turn to feign shock, "What about Eryno?"

"That lad can take care of himself, particularly with that fancy suit of armour he has."

"Thanks." She said after a pause. "Thanks for coming. To the ceremony that is. Well, to Starfall, and … um …"

"I know you've got a million things to do, so I'm going to let you go do them." He gave her a salute, still crisp, his hands unwavering.

"Just a few, actually." She kissed him on the cheek then stepped away. Reaching back to when she memorized her spells that morning, she called to the front one of her signatures. With a studied grace, a bolt of lightning with accompanying crack of thunder burst from her fingertip, lancing high into the sky above Starfall. Then she joined her waiting companions, put a hand on each of their shoulders, thought of the crusader city on the West Sellen, and they all vanished.


	5. Songs in the ruins

Having been raised in a mercenary company who specialized in the construction and forced demolition of fortifications, Bliks knew that the ruins of a city could tell her a great deal about how they came to be ruined.

One of the most common ways cities might be destroyed was fire, ever present in nearly every building on every street. Except in the most enchanted places it was a threat, as few could afford magical lighting or cooking. Even in more mundane settings, at least magic could be used to try to douse an inferno, rather than relying on fire breaks, bucket lines, or the mere exhaustion of combustible materials. As most buildings, even stone ones, were constructed with wood timbers for support and planks as comfortable flooring, one could see where a fire had torn through a neighbourhood, hollowing out stone buildings and incinerating completely wooden ones. The smell and stains of soot would also mark its passage, but that would be dampened with time.

Earthquakes would also often cause fires, as the disturbance of so many hearths, candles, and lanterns could lead to calamity. Barring that, it would be stone structures that would suffer more, as the mortar could not flex with the moving earth, and as strong as stone was, it was a brittle material, shattering rather than bending. Further, if there was no fire, there was often a tell tale diminishing level of damage the further one travelled from the quake, giving some sense to survivors where the event might have originated; adventurers were often sent to explore those regions in case it was the herald of some great beast or terrible experiment by the creatures who called the Darklands home.

Like earthquakes, floods only struck certain communities, but they were a far more common calamity. Here again, the tables were turned, as wood, while well suited for building boats, fared poorly against the press of a wall of water. Certainly foundations could be ruined by floodwaters, but often they could be shored up and the building saved, but floodwaters, depending on how quickly they came in, could simply scour the streets and avenues of the city, turning carts, rocks, and bodies into grit to grind anything in its path. The accompanying smell of water often far from its former banks could stick to such a city, inviting mould and worse.

Wind was an underrated destroyer of cities, as it was usually such an ephemeral thing, but those in the path of a tornado certainly knew its strength. Entire wooden structures could be torn apart, their rubble thrown through the air like any siege weapon, skewering citizen and buildings alike. But there the ferocity of the wind was focused, cleaving lanes through districts but not flattening the entire city; that was the prevue of hurricanes. There one could also see floods as the wind drove the water onto the land and universal winds that threatened to match the tornados that it too would spawn. The stripped nature of a city after a hurricane left little wonder as to its cause.

A buried city was an interesting phenomena, but just as deadly as the others, often more so due to its rapid onset. Sandstorms, volcanic ash, even an unexpectedly harsh snow could all crush a city under their sheer weight, added one grain or flake at a time. There, the cities themselves might be very well preserved, with sealed interiors often surviving as if the owners had just stepped away; with no access for animals or insects, musty hollows might be all that remain. Citizens trapped in such a city might find themselves physically buried or trapped inside their homes, and so the chance of ghosts or other disturbed spirits arising from those who had hours or days of horror facing the inevitable was much elevated.

Plagues were more common in trade centres, and much more common in ports, where sick travelers could survive the journey only to deliver their destination into a walking nightmare. From the common but easily overcome Mindfire to the deadly plague, these could be contained with rapid use of divine magic, but at times these salves may not be enough. Entire neighbourhoods might be quarantined with barricades, either make shift or carefully constructed, to try to keep the disease contained. In the worst cases fire might be tried to burn the infection out, killing the healthy alongside the sick. These cities are often marked with mass graves or large pyres as there weren't enough people left to properly bury their neighbours.

A terrifying cousin to plagues were cities that were overrun with undead with the ability to make more of their kind from their victims. While vampires are unlikely to feast with such abandon, less can be said for the likes of Plague Zombies or Shadows, whose numbers can grow beyond containment in very short order. Such cities can vary from being well preserved mausoleums to scenes of pitched battles and last stands, as the living did what they could to survive the seemingly unending necromantic hordes. Many a minor crusade has been launched to purge these cities of their taint lest it spread, often resulting in yet greater damage to the city.

Magic can have all sorts of effects, ranging from the natural listed above, to the truly bizarre. Consider the partially present town of Urigen, where Golarion and the First World overlap and visitors can be lost if they're unwary. Or Alkenstar City, a place bereft of magic after the centuries long conflict between Geb and Nex; while it isn't a destroyed city, to some, losing magic is akin to losing a river or even access to fresh air. There are the portals that open unto realms both fair and foul, both of which can overwhelm the local environment, shattering the bodies and minds of those who are exposed to their energies, without even considering the invasion of our world by creatures from the Outer Sphere. Living spells can render entire neighbourhoods into statues or drive their residents insane, and so when a city shows truly bizarre damage, magic can often be found somewhere at the root of it.

Unmentioned to this point are the impacts of war, which can be any combination of the above, but usually focused through a lens of intention. Walls are often battered or collapsed, buildings shattered with clear signs of the instrument of their failure in their remains. Fire can be started intentionally or by accident, and flinging plague ridden corpses into a besieged city has had a long and terrible history. Infiltrators can do the same, spreading magically conjured diseases, raising bodies of water to overflow their banks; sabotage can take many forms. Further, with the inclusion of magical beasts, all sorts of other harrowing damage can befall a community, from giants smashing buildings as if they were children's toy blocks to dragons scouring all life from the air.

But war has a tendency to leave the imprint of the warriors. Druids and fey will often overwhelm a city with the natural world, Treants tearing down walls, Shambling Mounds coursing through the streets, until where there had been artifice, only nature remains. Those elemental armies might see similar impacts as the previous destruction, but with intelligent fires jumping from building to building and floods drowning those on upper floors of buildings. Strangest and most terrifying of all were the Earth Elementals, whose attacks were silent; after hollowing out a space beneath a building, it would collapse into the sinkhole then be sealed under the earth. The forces of Heaven would often leave passages for civilians to escape the horror of the siege as well as those defenders who threw down their arms, while those of Hell will seek to put all under the lash, sparing none from shackles.

So it was clear to Bliks that demons had come to Kenabres as they had come to Starfall, but in far greater numbers and strength.

Despite immediately clicking into a combat mindset, Eryno mused over the radio link, 'Well this can't be good.'

They had arrived at the northern edge of the city, just outside the simply named Northgate, whose adjoining neighbourhood shared its name. Bliks had aimed for the Northgate Market, an open stretch of ground surrounded by encamped crusaders. As a young adult she had rarely visited this marketplace, as it was outside the heavily guarded walls and there was little here that she could not have found in the city; this was a market for the crusaders who didn't want to have to repeatedly deal with Kenabres security.

The place was deserted, with only scant reminders that there had been pitched tents or even stalls nearby. For hundreds of feet in either direction Bliks could see a path of scorched earth, where some spell or flame enshrouded demon had swept across the landscape, cutting right through where the marketplace had been. In its wake she could pick out the occasional tent peg or piece of canvas flapping in the breeze, but mostly whatever could have been burnt in the past three days had been reduced to ash.

Mendev, despite being a more northerly country than Numeria, had never struggled with the alien radiation and chemicals that had been splashed across its landscape when the Androffans crashed during Starfall. It's landscape was rough, but not as frigid as any of its neighbours to the west, with Irrisen's winter supernaturally enforced. It even hosted the vast Estrovian Forest in its southern reaches. But in a frightening way, she felt more at home on this blasted plain, which reminded her more of the Felldales in western Numeria than the Kenabres she had known.

'I'm going to have a look around', she said over the link, first casting Invisibility upon herself, then rising into the air. To the west, towards the river and the Worldwound, was the bulk of the crusader camps, and right through the middle of them was a great tear in the ground, as if some massive plough had turned the soil over. 'That's where Chun probably died', she thought to herself, reminded now of her failed attempts at scrying. Jarringly she was reminded of the gully she had fled down those years ago and how this displacement of earth now eerily mimicked those common across the Wounded Lands. No campfires burned, no smoke rose, just silence and dark stains on the earth, whether scorch marks or spilled blood she could not say.

Looking to the south she gazed upon the nearest and lowest tier of the city, the Gate district. Kenabres as a whole was built on a rise in the land, and each of the districts had been roughly cut into that hill. During each period of expansion an effort was made to level the ground in the planned new district, but the overall effect was four great stacked plateaus, each with their assigned district. With a look of horror, she traced the gash through the crusader camp southward, through the first great wall and across the Gate district, then up the slope and into the second highest tier, the Ring district. Flying yet higher she could see that the gash had breached even the innermost wall, that of the district of Old Kenabres. Whether something had come from the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell and half burrowed its way far to the north or vice versa, was unclear.

From her new vantage point, the city appeared to be replete with wounds, gaping trenches where there used to be houses, streets, businesses, and churches. Another gash similar to the one she had first glimpsed, had torn through the city from the north east, either starting from or ending at the Cathedral as well. And yet there were more, another to the east, and then one to the south that split to the south west and south east. 'Several great machines of destruction, either living or constructed, either came from the central Cathedral, or came together there.' Bliks reported to her allies, who had begun to make their way south towards the entrance to the city. 'I can see no fires, but the city has been devastated. Our travel across it may not be easy.' At this height she could see some movement, but it was in the air, not on the ground. Peering at one of the shapes, the shape of a buzzard came into focus. Bliks hoped that it was merely that and not a Vrock or some other demonic bird.

Then her heart sank. Above her the sun had taken on the shape of an elongated crescent, not that of an eclipse, but as if it had been stretched out across a broader piece of the sky. The clouds themselves were black as soot, not just at their bases, and the background, which should have been a clear blue, was tinged crimson. Over the link she warned the others, 'The corruption of the Worldwound has expanded here. Don't be too surprised if you see things horribly out of place. And, as they tell the crusaders, don't touch anything if you can avoid it. The taint can penetrate anything.'

Hex was the only one of the three visible when they passed through the gate. The two towers looking over the entrance were empty, and from the gatehouse itself no calls for identification rung out. There appeared to be no damage, but the thick wooden gates had been secured open, as was typical of any day. Beyond them the iron portcullis had been wedged off the ground, with several rocks and beams being used as a simple lever; if nothing else, the guards had had time to cut the ropes holding this barrier up. That they hadn't had enough time to close the gates suggested they had been rapidly overcome.

Here was the first sign of violence.

Pinned to the inner wall of the gatehouse, just before it opened up into Northgate, were the remains of a member of the Eagle Watch. His boots were missing and his exposed hands and feet were blackened with pooled blood. The rest of his uniform, known across Avistan, was the distinct navy blue jacket with yellow collars and a stylized eagle on each shoulder, over a leather vest and a cloth undershirt. His pants were a field variety, in a plain wool, yet his tri corner cap was missing, stolen or blown away in a passing breeze. The likely damage to the face by scavengers was hidden as his chin was buried in his chest, stringy black hair flopping down over that as well. That the ranseur impaled in his chest had been driven so far as to press its cross hilt against the dead man's chest gave some sense to the strength of the demon. 'Bliks?' Hex asked.

'A Bulezau by my guess. That he was impaled off the ground and the weapon's size mark it as such. Goat head, twice the height of a human, followers of Baphomet, which is unusual. Best to catch it in a rage, it's easier to hit, and Eryno, it likes to charge. They're a middle tier demon, either blessed weapons or cold iron should work.'

'Gotcha. What was that bit about it being unusual?'

'The Worldwound is the realm of Deskari, Lord of the Locust Host, the Usher of the Apocalypse. Baphomet is another Demon Lord, and it is a rare thing indeed for any to work together. There might be new rifts that have opened up in the Worldwound into Baphomet's realm, the Ivory Labyrinth. If true, there might be fighting between these two, and while this attack is horrendous, it might be an opportunity for the crusade.'

'If you're going to try to sell me on some 'the enemy of my enemy' argument …' Eryno began before Bliks cut him off.

'No demon is trustworthy, even if it is in their own interests to work alongside others. That there might be infighting is not an opportunity for new allies, but for new targets. Fewer of the lesser demons will be able to shield their masters from both observation and surgical strikes.'

'That's what I like to hear. Give me a sec guys, I'll scout ahead.'

Eryno wasn't strictly invisible, but he was able to find any available cover to conceal his movements. That he continued to do so despite wearing his powered armour spoke as much to his own skill as to Bliks' enchantments; both she and Hex quickly lost track of their companion's location. The android studied his companion, waiting for Eryno's reports. 'You seem familiar with this place.'

Bliks felt caught off guard, like Hex had pointed out some clear lie she had told. 'Yes, I'm sorry. Sorry I didn't mention it earlier. I only spent a year or so here, about fifteen years ago.' She gestured around, 'My dad brought me here because of a contract his company had taken to work on the pumps. They'd gotten a reputation in Outsea, learning from the water breathers there on how to work with filters, keeping their salt water from mixing with the local fresh water, and so Kenabres thought it would be forward thinking to make sure they filtered their water from potential Abyssal contamination.'

'It may be hard to believe, but they pump their water up from the West Sellen, quite the feat.'

Hex looked at Bliks with cool detachment, 'Might I remind my Magister we've been in crashed starships.'

Bliks nodded quickly, 'Yes, but they're able to do the pumping without either Androffan technology or magical aid. Well, they were able to do so. When I was aloft earlier I saw only one of the three still intact.'

'Nobody's out on the street guys, you're clear to move up.' Eryno cut in over the link. 'Well, nobody living that is.'

Making their way to their powered armour clad companion meant skirting a clutter of smashed carts, the merchants goods scattered across the street with at least some of the merchants dead alongside them. One of bodies appeared to have been torn apart after death, the lack of extensive spatter gave Bliks that impression, but not eaten, just defiled. 'This is the kind of senseless violence demons revel in' She said over the link.

'You're not the only one who's had a close encounter of the demonic kind as a kid, Bliks' Eryno replied.

Bliks felt a twang of pain, 'You came here too?'

'Naw, not here. Back in Torch. Some idiot thought they might get a Dretch as a servant, you know, mopping the floors. Haunted the Chapel of the Wanderer for weeks. One of my buddies told me I was too scared to go there at night, so I thought I'd show 'im.' Eryno said over the link in a kind of matter the factness that did not match Bliks' first encounter with the creatures of the Abyss. 'Stupid thing was trying to hide in one of the mausoleums, got the jump on me though. Almost had it before old man Radli ran it through. That was really the worst of it, got its blood in my cuts, almost killed me.'

Eryno was hold up in the shell of a building clearly wrecked by fire. To her eyes it looked like some local general store, such was the variety of goods; either that or some hoarder had lived here. It'd probably take hours to sort through the salvageable from the garbage, and yet, she considered, she could probably magically mend even the latter.

'Pretty big building over there, want to check it out?', Eryno pointed down the street, past a relatively intact house to a remarkable, if soot laden building. From their vantage point Bliks could make out four minarets, two of them at each of the northern and southern ends of the building, and the leading edge of a brass coloured dome. But she knew something was amiss, as this church should have had four more minarets, on the eastern and western sides, but they were conspicuously missing.

'It's the temple of Shelyn, and it doesn't look in good shape.'

'What does around here?' Eryno joked back, then went silent.

Even from this distance, the building seemed to lean back, reclining from the street, its towers at a slight angle to vertical. Thus it had been since its construction, an inviting place, not dominating the space around it. The closer they got, the more details they could pick out, and the work was both varied and intricate. No stretch of wall was left without either a mural or an engraving, no pillar not adorned with garlands or some finery. When she had last been here, Bliks had known this place as more of a as an art gallery crossed with a concert hall, with the art, both inside and out, changing as often as the seasons.

Now the art was marred by soot and in places deliberately defaced. In the road that led up to its front gates a battle appeared to have been fought. Piles of hunchbacked demons crowded the street, looking like some kind of horribly deformed ratfolk with four horns protruding from its head. 'Abrikandilus.' Bliks told the others, 'Use cold iron and avoid their bites. They'll also try to break your weapons and might attack from a height. And', she parted her arms, 'as you can see, they attack in packs.'

'They probably didn't have a chance,' she continued, referencing the bodies of the clerics of Shelyn. 'Charms and air magic don't fare well against demons, and the rest of their spells focus on protection and luck, but even that runs out.' The defenders bodies had been mauled by the rat demons that had gotten through, their bites not merely tearing skin but disfiguring their victim's whole body. As was no surprise, they were armed with cold iron glaives, which could hold the creatures at bay, but exhaustion must have eventually overcome them. At first glance Bliks thought they had been unarmoured, a dangerous choice this close to the Worldwound, but their tunics and leggings were indeed tough leather, even if they were slightly revealing; Shelyn was the goddess of love after all. Bodies of both men and women had pushed these demons back, at least for a time.

'But why fight out here?' Eryno asked, looked up at the engraved but solid doors of the temple. 'Even if those things could have broken down the doors, they could have held them there, much easier too.'

'They sallied out, perhaps to break out.' Hex replied, 'Or perhaps their defences had been bypassed.'

'After you,' Bliks sent to Eryno, who did a little bow and then slipped through the doors.

'Why didn't you stay?' Hex asked Bliks as soon as Eryno left. She had started to cast some cantrips over the bodies, cleaning them of dirt and blood while he kept watch over the courtyard.

'You mean here in Kenabres? I'd learned all I could from a crusader by the name of Miammir and Dad didn't want me to study under either the Blackfire Adepts or the Riftwardens.' Reaching out with Mage Hand, she shifted weapons aside, moved limbs, straightened clothes, all without touching the bodies. 'I mean, really those two groups are diametrically opposed, the adepts wanting to somehow channel the Worldwound while the wardens want to seal it; both are a bit crazy.'

Hex flicked open his revolver to double check his load, something she felt he did with a grace and fluidity that few dancers could attest to. He caught her looking and fixed her in his gaze, 'Tell me the rest when you're ready.'

Silenced, Bliks went back to her work. That this place could bring back such vivid fears that even the emotionally detached android was aware, disturbed her. Having just given the fallen some semblance of dignity Eryno's voice cut through the link, 'Bliks, you're right, they do like to try to go after weapons.'

'Situation?' Hex asked briskly, the previous conversation seemingly a distant memory.

'Got the drop on a group that must have gotten inside. Made a bit of a mess.'

'We'll be right there.'

Bliks floated off the ground and hurried after Hex as they entered the temple. The foyer had a green tile, marked so as to give the visual impression of grass except where it had been cracked by a toppled statue of an Avoral, a humanoid Agathion with the legs and arms of a bird, the torso of a human, and a head that mixed both. Here there was a smashed desk where an acolyte would greet visitors, there was a cloakroom, the ceiling outside of it showing signs of fire inside. Confident that Eryno had cleared the traps between them, Hex strode without concern through the debris of the temple, throwing open a set of double doors that led into a larger chamber.

Intact, the room had been a music hall in the round. The central dais had served as both altar and stage for performers, with retractable planks covering a circular trench that allowed either a choir or musicians to support the performance but remain out of sight. Above it all was an elaborate domed ceiling, supported by magic, but decorated with a mundane fresco, depicting Shelyn's history, from her birth after the imprisonment of Rovagug, to her rise as a minor deity, to her brother's matricide that thrust her into her mother's place in the pantheon as the goddess of love.

Now it was as if a great blade had sliced an egg in half. The ground had swallowed the dais and trench and yet gaped, and the great dome had been ripped open, exposing the temple to the elements. The room had scattered, cushioned benches and out of place but unoccupied beds, giving the sense of some kind of temporary shelter or even hospital.

Eryno stood by one of the many pillars that surrounded the perimeter of the room, both it and his shield slick with demon blood; a rat thing had clearly been crushed between stone and steel. At his feet lay two more, these more cleanly killed with his rapier, but still oozing over the former polished floor.

Speaking out loud, Eryno broke their usual silent conversation by saying, "Saw they were going to jump this guy, didn't look like he was in any shape to handle it." The first survivor they had seen in Kenabres was clearly not a local Iobarian, but instead a dark skinned man, perhaps of Vudrani ancestry, sitting against one of the benches, holding a beautiful glaive near its blade, more like an oversized knife than a polearm. His hair was cut short and despite the multicoloured bird on his breastplate, the sacred symbol of Shelyn, he was uncharacteristically clad in agile half-plate, a considerable step up in protection from the dead clerics outside. Blood seeped from a wound in the man's leg, where his armour had not protected him.

"Thank you, strangers, but you must flee. This place is lost, I am all that remains of my order." His voice was weak but not ragged, still holding a calmness, despite his surroundings, "I would not leave with our wards, but was directed to not aid with the distraction. I fear that seeing you instead of my sisters and brothers, that they are dead."

Bliks was well versed as the spokesman of the group, kneeling to bring herself level with the wounded man. "They sent many of the rat demons that sought to destroy your temple back to whatever pit they crawled from. Now, before more return, let us tend your wounds while you tell us your tale."

"My name is Sosiel Vanic, cleric of the Eternal Rose, and while I have heard time is hard to measure in the Worldwound, that days are somehow shorter, they are still days, and it has been three since the Kite was destroyed." The man winced when Bliks began to tend his wound, but continued, "It was mid afternoon and we had just finished choir practise when it seemed as though there was second sun rising in the south. Shadows fell unnaturally, and those who saw it directly could not see for several minutes. They said afterwards that it was like a thunderstorm of fire, roiling with flame but with arcs of lightning, but we had not a moment to ask, for as soon as that light flashed, we were surrounded by the hosts of the Abyss."

Eryno looked over Bliks' bandages, nodded, and cast Cure Light Wounds. While he had the ability to cast both Moderate and Serious versions, he had instead opted to take a broader selection of spells; besides, if the situation truly became dire, they could always use Androffan Hemochem. The man's voice continued, stronger, even calmer, "We drove those out who had trespassed within this hallowed hall, and called on Shelyn to shield us from their vile teleportation, and then waited for the crusaders to clear our city of these invaders, for the wardstones to once again turn back the tide."

"The faithful and the fearful came to our doors and we let them in, but that trickle soon dried up." Pulling himself off the ground, refusing Eryno's offered hand, he tested his wounded leg, found it held his weight, and then continued, "Despite our glaives, we are not a martial church, we rarely even fight those creatures of unredeemable evil except in the immediate defence of ourselves or others. We are artists, poets, singers … I was a gardener for Shelyn, planting flowers in her name long before my brother Trever brought me here."

"And so day passed into night. The screams continued outside and fires raced across the city. Finding no refuge in their homes and despite the demons and the darkness, people from across Kenabres once again made their way to our doors, where we soothed their fears with song. But quietly we were told the truth, by one who had been in Old Kenabres before fleeing for his life. The dread Balor Khorramzadeh, Storm King of the Worldwound, had again attacked the Kite, and this time, consumed it. Alas our great protector Terendelev was this time no match for the beast, for even in her draconic form he smote her again and again. Gone too was the wardstone, and so while it seemed our hope too should go, song once again buoyed our spirits."

"By the time the sun finally rose again in the sky, much of the sound of battle had ceased. We thought we must have won or the demons had, as they have in the past, fled back to their pits of madness." Sosiel paused and for the first time looked distressed, staring across the chasm that now split his temple, "But then some servant of darkness must have heard our singing or saw our lights, for the ground tore this holy ground apart, sending many into the depths below. Shelyn had been bested, and we set ourselves to leave."

"Then those things," Sosiel pointed with his glaive, now holding it in a less desperate grip, "came. They seemed drawn to the art, as we saw them scurry past simple shops, only to revel in ruining a beautiful façade. Through that day and that night we held them at our doors, striking them from our walls when they dared climb them, continuing to sing the songs of Shelyn, even in this shattered place. But our supplies were exhausted by their constant press and the needs of our wards, so we made a final gambit, hoping that our audacity would bring us luck and thus salvation."

"My brethren would strike out from our front doors, calling the beasts to us with song and verse, while those we sheltered could flee to more defensible holdings. I was tasked with remaining here, to guard the relics and works of our faith to the end. My sisters clad me on one side while my brothers clad me on the other in this sacred armour, and then left. I heard their song for hours until sleep took me, and upon waking, I heard it not. The beasts made their way inside and I slew them in the halls and galleries, keeping them from our treasures, but in time, I found my calls to Shelyn went unanswered, my faith flagging, and thus was wounded, as you found me."

Anguish suddenly filled his voice, "But my sisters and brothers need not have thrown away their lives! They stood outside those doors long after the last straggler we had sheltered had departed, all the while drawing those fiends to them. Perhaps they sought to set an example, to show resolve against the storm, but … we are but artists, poets, and singers."

"The resolve of the crusade is what keeps it alive, friend Sosiel." Bliks soothed, "And even though this building is damaged, it remains. Its art remains. You remain." She smiled as the man finally pressed his free hand against his chest, spreading his gloved fingers over the iridescent bird. "Does not Shelyn also embody protection and defence? And they loved each other so that they could not leave any, even as they fell. They worshiped the Eternal Maiden to the end."

'We can't leave him here, he'll die just like the rest.' Eryno pointed out over the link.

Bliks turned to her companion, still smiling, 'Give me an hour and I'll take care of that.' Aloud she said, "Now we should see to your brethren, see that their bodies are properly cared for and sheltered from further abuse."

'See if you can find a way around this chasm' Hex sent to Eryno, 'I'll get the lay of the land from one of their towers.'

Laying a hand on the cleric's back, Bliks guided the steady, proud, but somewhat broken man back through the wreckage of the hall. They paused when they came across Abrikandilus bodies, to which Bliks evoked a Greater Floating Disk to carry those festering remains to the edge of the chasm; it sickened her, seeing how quickly the demons bodies decomposed, sloughing off skin and hair mere minutes after death. A quick Prestidigitation let her clean up the much but not all of the stains their bodies left behind.

The black skinned man stopped at the exit from the great hall, after Bliks had cleared those bodies and said with some forcefulness "I have told you my tale, stranger, but who are you and your companions, that you come to Kenabres in this terrible hour? You do not seem to be crusaders, but you also do not seem to be in line with these invaders. Speak and at least give me your names!"

"My name is Bliksemani Volgeling and my companions are the android Hex and the half elf ranger Eryno, who saved your life and helped heal your wounds. We are emissaries from Numeria, sent to find out what caused a great tumult we saw in the north. But I bear ill news friend, for even as far south as Starfall has been struck by the demonic horde. They were driven back, but we believe there is something wrong with the wardstones." Bliks tried as soothing a tone as possible, knowing that Sosiel would be looking for signs of possession or other demonic trickery. Long had the crusades struggled with infiltrators, most horribly in Kenabres when a Lilitu demon slaughtered scores of citizens in the Red Morning Massacre.

Sosiel nodded and allowed them to proceed to the main entrance, "I know not Numeria but for the tales of thinking golems and powerful metals. Few crusaders call that land home, and I know of no churches to my lady there."

At that Bliks shocked him with a laugh, "Indeed! Numeria is neither a beautiful land nor is it easy to make it so. We have shrines, of course, to the Eternal Rose, but as you say, no churches."

Exiting the great temple, Sosiel first braced himself, and then walked stiffly to where his fellow clergy lay. Weeping openly he knelt, finding their holy symbols and placing them around their necks so that it would rest on their chests. Bliks interrupted his reverie, "We did what we could, to clean and arrange the bodies, but I'm not familiar with your funeral rites, so I dared not do more. Might I suggest we move them indoors?"

"We have no crypt, but there are galleries where I know they enjoyed hours of song. Until we have the proper time, there they shall lay."

And so Bliks gently lifted each body in turn with the floating disk, ferrying them through the doors and halls until they came to a simple panelled room, where Sosiel's footfalls immediately gave her a sense of the acoustics; a fine practise space indeed. As she lay them down, the cleric set a music stand at their feet, on which he placed one of their hymnals, taking sometimes a few minutes to find a particular piece for each of his brethren.

When they finished their work in silence, Sosiel said "Even with them here, I cannot abandon this place. Our relics are not secured in some hidden vault as so many other faiths do, but are hung gladly for all to admire. Love is something not to be hidden."

"I understand, but we cannot leave you unprotected in this place. Let me leave you at least with that."

Nodding Sosiel then began to sing. While his tone was sorrowful, neither the melody or the lyrics carried that through. It was a song about sunsets and spoke of flowers that opened only in the dark. Bliks listened for a minute, but saw in the hymnal that this song could be sung for much longer than she had planned to stay, and so she bowed out of the room.

Flying briskly through the halls, she again cast Invisibility on herself, and then settled in at the front foyer to prepare a spell in a slot she had left open just for this circumstance. With that completed, she exited the building and began to enclose it in ritual and charms. Running her fingers over the frames of exterior doors, the stone extended in an illusion to completely shroud them from view. Then she would clench her fist, feeling each door magically lock in turn; even if it had no lock, arcane forces held it tight. Through each stairway she flew, her fingers splayed wide, thick cobwebs spraying and tangling each from passage. Behind her trailed a persistent mist, clouding the entire building's interior, but in the foyer she finished, enchanting the area with a compulsion for any that passed through there to immediately leave the building.

The Guards and Wards completed, she reached out to her companions, who had been quiet over the link, 'What've you guys seen? I think I've secured this building as best I can; Sosiel refused to leave.'

'Gotcha. Looks like it's a bit faster skirt this chasm if we go to the west. But where are we planning on going anyways?' Eryno replied first from somewhere she sensed was both above and to the west of her.

'South east. There's both light and movement from what looks like a bunker.' Hex replied, from a direction similar to that of Eryno.

'That could be Defender's Heart, it was Kenabres' largest inn. I'd have to see it for myself to be sure.' Bliks mused for a moment then continued, 'At some point I will want to check out the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell on the hill, as it seems to be the epicentre of this mess … and I think we should see the remains of the Kite to see what remains of the wardstone … artifacts, even minor ones, are not so easily destroyed, and even so are rarely destroyed completely.'

She could still hear Sosiel's singing as she hurried to catch up with her companions.


	6. Amid the Ruins (Part 1)

'So we're just going to leave him in here?' Eryno sent once Bliks got within sight. Not that they needed line of sight to communicate, but it felt appropriate for him to wait.

'Yes, but I did significantly bolster his defences. Not only should the place be less interesting for those rat demons, but if anything else tries to get in, it'll have a hard time getting around.' Bliks replied over the link, seeing that Hex must have made his way down from the tower before the Guards and Wards coated them with Webs. 'Even with darkvision they won't be able to see through that mist, but he'll know where he can strike from, where he can retreat to. And as much as his singing might draw them in, he knows the value of a blank canvas or a pregnant pause.'

Behind her bobbed the still present Greater Floating Disk as she caught up to her two companions who had found an intact awning to shelter under just to the west of the church, giving them a clear view over the chasm that had cut it in two. Bliks estimated that it was almost over seventy yards across. Absentmindedly she sent over the link, 'An enhanced Earthquake spell?'

'You could do that?' Eryno said, but even with his visor down, she could tell he was flabbergasted.

'What? Oh, no.' Bliks sent, shaking her self a bit to try to focus. 'Best I could do would be to open many little fissures across an area as wide as that one. I can't imagine what could actually do that kind of damage.'

'Are you alright?' Hex asked, again checking his firearms by hand to ensure a full load while scanning further down the street.

Bliks paused then replied, 'Yes? No, I just, well … have I ever done that before?'

'Done what? Cut a building in half with a spell? I would have loved to have seen that!' Eryno sent back.

'No, I mean, I thought I was thinking that, I didn't realize I sent that over the link.'

'Interesting. Perhaps the other side of what you said you have been experiencing from us.' Hex considered.

'I hadn't thought that. Maybe my link is breaking down? I mean you don't hear the same kind of hum I have when you're around, right?'

'Nope. Thought that was a bit weird too' Eryno replied. 'Maybe that assassin did more damage than just, well, you know.'

She still hadn't figured out who had sent that Red Mantis Assassin after her, months ago now. Certainly, neither she nor any of the others were legitimate heirs to the throne of Numeria, and so were valid targets of that shadowy cabal, but no further assassins were sent, which was, as she understood it, against their protocol.

Considering the message she had sent back with the preserved corpse of her assailant, maybe they broke protocol to avoid further retribution. She had inserted a tiny speck of the Grey Goo ooze in a pellet that would break down if the body was brought back to body temperature; if they tried to Resurrect him, he'd be quickly and likely quite painfully consumed from inside, using him to make a dangerous new body for itself. She had had a troublesome time trying to contain the sample they did have, so she did not envy anyone on the receiving end of her 'message'.

'Eryno, what time is it?' Bliks sent.

'Mid afternoon? At least that's what the … whoa … sun looks like?' The powered armour tilted back slightly so the Ranger could get a look at the sky. 'What's wrong with it?'

'Nothing. Recall what Bliks said, don't trust what you see in the Worldwound.'

'Right. That's screwed up.'

'Look guys, we're burning daylight here. We've got a lot of mysteries yet to solve, but I'd rather be indoors when night comes.' Bliks concluded. Eryno just tipped his helmeted head forward slightly, and then almost silently hopped off down the road, slipping from doorway to alley and then out of sight.

Hex stared at Bliks long enough for her to start to fidget and then sent to her, 'This magic is beyond you?'

'I don't know. I fear it. I don't know what could do this kind of damage. I've yet to see its like. In time, I could carve out a trench like this, but it'd be slow, gradual, perhaps taking me weeks. If Sosiel is to be believed, and there's no reason not to, someone or something did this in an instant.'

'Just as worrisome to me are the paths of destruction that, as I've said, either started at or ended at the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell.' Bliks shuddered slightly even thinking about it, 'They're deep, wide, and nothing seems to have been sufficient to stop them. Its like some colossal Abyssal Bulette tore through there, but I can think of no demon ever reported that is either that large or of that shape. But the Abyss is not to be underestimated in creating destructive horrors, I just hope we're equal to the task of killing one, as I'm sure the time will come.'

'Okay guys' Eryno broke in, 'Head down the road you're on, then hang a left at the, ah, fountain? Or what's left of it.'

It was a short walk to the gurgling structure that once was the only open fountain in the entire Gate District. Despite the destruction around, particularly one of the massive gouges she had just been considering just to its west, the pipes from the remaining functional water pump must not have been too badly damaged. While listing to one side, the roughly formed icon that was the fountains centrepiece was an upwardly circling comet, a minor shrine to Pharasma. Hammered out of a vast chunk of iron, its inherent nature as cold iron must have deterred most demons from touching it, although there were gouges and dents where there should have been none. Bliks was certain this minor miracle would be a rallying point for survivors, if nothing else than as a source of water.

Despite the silent link, Eryno raised a fist, calling for silence. Bliks could sense that there was something he could see but they had not yet. 'What is it?' she sent after a pause.

Unclenching his fist and waving his hand in the air Eryno replied, 'Trouble, but what else would you expect? Decent sized group, I think there's someone for everyone.' The ranger had found his way onto a broken upper floor of a shop and pointed around the corner.

After slipping forward as quietly as they could, Bliks looked around the crumbling stone corner of the building while Hex took up a firing position from one of its windows. Down the street, at the lip of the gouge, was a mixed group of cultists, their stylized Minotaur head symbols of Baphomet clearly on display. The first thing that came into sight was a creature standing to one side, some four armed humanoid whose body seemed to be trying to tear itself out of a suit of plate mail emblazoned with the sun and sword motif of the church of Iomedae. Even then its form was indistinct, shifting and wavering. Horns extended from one of its two skulls, then fell off as eyes grew in their place, followed by their consumption by newly formed mouths as the creature seemed to lose weight. Grasped in two of its claws was a massive sword, while another claw held a shield, leaving the last claw free to repeatedly fail in trying to rip the former holy armour from its body.

'That, gentlemen, is a Warped One. Sorry Eryno, that's your dance partner. And looks like its an antipaladin too. You won't need your cold iron.' Bliks sent over the link, adding a silent prayer for the two crusaders whose bodies must have been horrifically fused by the chaotic forces of the Abyss. 'The rest look like humans, so we'll have to wait to see what they've got in store. If you two focus on that thing first, I think I can hold the others until you're done.'

Hex glanced around the frame of the window he had positioned himself beside, he casually added 'I think they're about to kill that dwarf'. The cultists had formed into a rough circle around one of their member who was wielding an oversized glaive, serrated and twisted, so unlike the clean elegance of the Shelynite glaives they had just seen. At his feet was a babbling and frothing dwarf, her body so wracked with spasms such that they need not even restrain her to prevent her escape.

'Great, I had hoped we could get some setup.' Bliks huffed to the others over the link. 'On three.'

'This would be our sixth great sacrifice!' the cult leader thought, considering the past few days. Yes there had been many other, minor sacrifices, but a skilled tradeswoman, dwarf or not, was better than much of the chattel that had fallen under his blade. And the pickings were starting to get thin, as they fought with other Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth for the remaining sacrifices, sometimes even having to make sure demons didn't just slaughter everyone without a proper dedication. That the Warped One had fallen in with them was a source of glorious discord, culling two of his followers to its chaotic warp field.

So when he found himself enveloped in a miniature storm cloud, the lightning striking down the length of his beautiful glaive, blasting his robes from his body, he marvelled in its unpredictable destructive beauty, while it seared his flesh. Through the haze of roiling mist he could see a bulky armoured figure blast off a nearby shop in a column of fire, to land, racing forward to drive the Warped One back into a pile of rubble. Then, just barely above the booms of thunder he could hear the repeated concussion of one of those damnable Alkenstar firearms; who or what it connected with he didn't care.

Shouting as he pointed, "Let the Warped One have its fun, bring me that mage!" His gesture was towards a slight Sylph, wearing a dress of dark violet and yellow under a vibrant indigo cloak who had just stepped out from behind the same building that flying armoured thing had leapt from. Looking down, his body wracked with pain, he still smiled broadly at the dwarf woman thinking, 'Your turn will still come!'

His motley mix of followers rushed up the hill, crowding the street as they shouted challenges in both Abyssal and Taldane. Their blind charge failed when the ground underneath them fell away, as a pit took the place of the cobblestone street, sucking down and then, as the walls convulsed, started chewing the most bold of the group. The remaining cultists howled at their prey, their direct access blocked, but a few had enough sense still to draw and fire their crossbows, which clattered against the stone as the mage ducked back behind cover. Grabbing the armoured figure, the Warped One tried to hurl it into the pit, but only succeeded in getting him closer to the sacrificial site, to which the cult leader howled in glee. He could feel the Fury of the Abyss envelop him, blinding him, only seeing again once his glaive failed to penetrate the star metal hide of this armoured figure. This close to the Warped One, he could feel its entropic gift change even him, ballooning his stomach with rolls of unnatural fat, tearing the remains of his robes from his still smoking body.

The first cultist to flank where the mage had been was flung back, his ragdoll body thudding against a half broken wall, his chest caved in from a cannonball. With more caution, the next peered around the corner seeing a slightly glowing, slightly arcing field gun, jittering in place, as a fresh cannonball rolled down its barrel. Even without any visible eyes, the thing somehow turned its maw towards where the cultist hid, all without any crew pushing or pulling it into position. Meanwhile the Warped One swung its greatsword in a rising arc, knocking the powered armour figure's own shield out of position just long enough for the Abyss tainted creature to lay its free hand on its opponent's visor. The scream sang into the cult leader's ears, as he used the same opening to drive his unholy glaive into where he assumed the armoured figure's guts were, this time his blade cutting deep into a gap, rewarding him with a trickle of blood.

While satisfying, he had little time to enjoy it. Beset by two opponents, the user of the powered armour abandoned its spiked steel shield to grab one of the cult leader's arms. Like an intractable vice, the hand closed, crushing the bones in the man's forearm; he would have howled in pain if he hadn't been caught in a maniacal laugh. Here he was, at the height of his power, his followers dying or barely challenging their enemies, a creature of pure Abyssal glory by his side, the blood of an enemy on his blade, naked, and never having imagined this ending to either his life or the hour. It was one word: perfection.

Eryno staggered back from his still viable opponent, sweeping the air between them with his skymetal rapier which had served him so well in his previous adventures all the while dragging the still laughing cult leader along with him. That thing's touch had sapped both his coordination and his endurance, but he kept his feet; he'd suffered worse at the hands of the minions of the Dominion of the Black. And he was keeping the things interest, or at least its attention. Steadying himself, he made to thrust into the creature but demurred at the last moment to slash across a portion of it not encased in plate, leaving behind a crimson trail in both its skin and the air.

Behind their firing line, only one of the cultists noticed the cloud that had assaulted their leader had slowly but relentlessly drifted across the battlefield, but his warning in Abyssal was not understood, and his companion was engulfed and electrocuted in seconds. Finding the mage's position dangerous to attack due to that animated field gun, they had turned their attention to the more available target in the now obviously android gunslinger. Where their bolts failed to find purchase in his flesh, they tore out the remainder of the window frame and its now completely smashed glass surface. His response was to kill the warning cultist and one of his fellows, reloading his revolver in a blinding but practised movement.

When the field around the Warped One once again corrupted the cult leader, Eryno saw his chance. The fat fell off the man like wax dripping off a candle and continued past the point where it had started until he was a near skeleton, his eyes still flashing about. Now much easier to heft, the ranger swung the crippled man like an oversized flail, letting go at the end so that the man slammed into the Warped One's bulky chest, crumpling both plate and bone. Hex sensed this change in disposition and fired a concentrated volley at the beast, punching through the now damaged mail and blowing a hole out it's other side. But in a show of defiance that they had all become accustomed to, having had to fight robots until the last servo was broken, the thing still did not relent, only began to leak out its back in addition to the wound Eryno had given it in its front.

Looking for the source of its new agony, the creature spied Hex, now no longer taking cover as the few surviving cultists broke and fled. With a grunt, it stepped forward, it's body shifting to and fro, then slipped through the intervening space in an instant, standing before the shattered hole that once was a window. Snarling it reached out for the android, only to see Bliks standing right behind the gunslinger, releasing a spell it was not prepared to deflect.

With a roar of wind, Hex was buffeted up against the window but rolled to one side, letting the gale pass him by. Despite its strength, the creature was top heavy and caught in the full brunt of the Greater Gust of Wind spell, tumbled backwards until it discarded its greatsword, digging three taloned claws into the ground to halt its slide. But now its legs were its undoing, as they dangled over the Hungry Pit, which again convulsed, crushing and sucking those limbs down into its extradimensional space. Now it threw away its shield, grabbing the ground with all its strength, fighting against the arcane strength of Bliks' spell, and in the end it won the tug of war, as its lower extremities were torn from its body and it pulled itself away from the edge of the pit, trailing a crimson and putrid bile stain with it. Despite a last burst of chaotic healing, forcibly regrowing its teeth and claws, the rent in its body was too great and only partially closed; in either case it had no legs.

Even its resistance to both spells and electricity were insufficient to protect it when the cloud of lightning slowly caught up to its crawling form, its plate armour conducting the electricity across its entire frame.

'How's everyone?' Bliks asked over the link, slightly out of breath.

'Undamaged.' Hex replied before Eryno flipped open his visor, spitting a mass of mucus up.

Looking at the others through slightly bloodshot eyes, the ranger sent 'Dirty thing burned me right through my helm, gave me some bug. I feel like hell, but I'll deal. Just promise me we'll see a cleric before the end of the day, I don't want to sleep with this thing.'

'If we have to teleport back to Starfall, I'll make sure you're cured.' Bliks said, then winced, noticing that one of the crossbow bolts had grazed her chest and in the flush of the moment, she hadn't noticed. Focusing on the pain, she sent an order to her onboard nanite stash to deal with the injury, and with a slightly euphoric flush of chemicals, the pain faded. 'Might want to double check, I took a round there.'

Eryno tapped his armour where the glaive had gotten through, 'Already fixed, and those little mites seem to be fixing up the hole in my armour too. Aw gross Bliks, not Hungry Pit again.' He pantomimed a gag.

The result of a successful Hungry Pit was often disgusting, as the ground resumed its previous dimensions and the contents of the pit were brought again to the 'surface'. A creature that died in there but stayed for the duration was often unidentifiable, such strength the walls had when they contracted on their contents. His humour returning, Eryno continued 'What about giving it a tongue or something? I mean we've yet to see anything climb out but flying things are always a problem. Call it Hungry Maw?'

'We're thinking along the same lines, I've actually been working on that, mixing Black Tentacles with Hungry Pit.'

'How's the dwarf?' Hex cut in. Looking over, the companions saw the dwarf was still lolling about on the ground.

'I think she'll need something more than just basic curative spells, I'll break out the Cureall. You should take a dose too Eryno.' Bliks mused, taking off her pack and through its magic, immediately drawing out a package of Androffan anti morbum syrettes. Eryno took one and slotted it into his armour's autoinjector, then held the dwarf as Bliks administered a dose. The stout woman's spasms declined to a mere twitch and her mouth cleared, but she didn't regain consciousness. With hours left on the duration of the Greater Floating Disk, Bliks had it draw up beside the resting woman and carefully pick her up. Her legs still dangled over the side, but they folded her arms across her chest trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

'Feeling better?' Hex asked Eryno, who only nodded in reply. 'Alright. There's a gap in one of the chasms due east of here.' And with that, they headed out again, this time with more caution, keeping Eryno within line of sight; they might have gotten the jump on the cultists this time but their experience showed that it was unlikely to happen again.

They had to skirt the edge of the north south gouge to avoid the sheer cliff of the chasm that had sundered the church, but the ground was steady and they found a relatively direct road heading east. Just a short walk and they had to avoid another chasm, this one almost parallel to the track of the gouge. The sheer level of destruction in such a short period of time still amazed Bliks. 'Such are the dangers of the Outer Spheres on the Material' she considered. So many despaired that the planes of Elysium, Heaven, and Nirvana had, to date, not interfered in either Hell's takeover of Chelix or of the intrusion of the Abyss in the Worldwound, but the involvement of the Upper planes could have been just as devastating, for had not Sarenrae opened the Pit of Gormuz? Still it was difficult to accept.

The road took them past the southern chunk of the church of Shelyn, perhaps a third of the building, with the middle third vanished into that chasm. The formerly beautiful edifices here were now badly scarred; no priests had remained or survived on this side to protect it. Just to the east, it appeared the church of Saranrae had remained mostly intact, but the front gate lay shattered on the ground, with no sounds of life from inside. Eryno pointed at the building, his intention a question, to which both Bliks and Hex shook their heads and they continued down the road.

Ahead was a scene familiar to them all, after seeing it close at hand in Starfall; a ruined maze of former tenements. The scenes she had seen in Starfall's Killbox district were repeated, if not identically, at least in form. Where buildings could be destroyed, they were, otherwise walls were smashed through and victims made of their inhabitants. This had been the site of the Northgate Market until they had moved it outside the city to better support the crusaders and in the disputes over ownership, the downtrodden of Kenabres had flocked here and built up a ramshackle pile of dwellings. Some saw actual proper construction material being used, but for the most part they were made from scraps and cast offs.

Hex pointed across the ruins to a pair of intact buildings, 'Between those two buildings'.

Fortunately the southern edge of the Northgate slum was clear of debris, so they were able to bypass the potential morass. Still, for an area that used to be so filled with people, even desperate people, the silence in the air was painful. As they approached the two buildings, they encountered another battlefield.

On its fringes was a mixed collection of crushed and melted crusaders. The former appeared to have been thrown here after some great snake had wound itself about them, constricting both flesh and steel. The latter were conspicuously laid out in clean lines, with skin, leather, hair, and bone melted, but their weapons and armour remarkably intact. The still acrid smell would have made Bliks retch if she had not willed the breezes around her to bring down fresh air; Hex did not seem to react and Eryno's armour kept him separated from the outside air.

Clearing the edges of a collapsed tenement, they could see the focus of the crusaders attacks, and their costly success. 'Goddess keep us from harm.' Bliks whispered over the link. While its body had, like all demons bodies would, started to rapidly decay, its form was still colossal, a disgusting mixture of an insect and a squid. Impaled in its cockroach like head was a still glinting blade, while its wielder appeared to have been crushed in the creature's claws in its death throes. Below what seemed to be a torso were a mass of tentacles, each one still holding a crusader in a fatal grip.

'I think it's a Vemerak, but I've never seen its like.' The mage sent to her companions. 'It's far larger than it should be, but I suppose, with the Abyss, nothing is as it should be. And those wings,' Bliks pointed to one still attached, its pair sheared off and laying nearby, 'Are not normal for a Vemerak. Again, I see the hand of Baphomet in this attack; his matriarch, Lamashtu, isn't called the Mother of Monsters for nothing.'

'It does, however, explain the chasms and gouges. These things can burrow into even stone, shattering the ground around them, ripping the earth apart. If we face one, I'll ward us against acid, as you can see,' she gestured behind them, 'it has a deadly attack in that. Aside from that, I'm not sure how to best take one down, as I'm unfamiliar with this new variety.'

'They interrupted its work' Hex said, pointing to the east and west as they stood by the festering corpse. Deep chasms stretched away in both directions, shattering both an inner and outer wall of the city.

'Probably let them get the drop on it, as it was distracted with destroying the city.' Bliks added


	7. Amid the Ruins (Part 2)

The silence that had pervaded the place was briefly disturbed by the sound of breaking glass and a following brief but raised set of voices. Almost on cue, Eryno bounded off in the direction of the noises, with Hex and Bliks hurrying after, across the intact gap of land between the two chasms. When they finally caught up, Eryno had once again situated himself on a nearby rooftop, pointing towards a small shop at the intersection of three roads. Under a carved wooden sign of a bundle of herbs and flower over a beaker, all in varied shades of orange, the title Topaz Solutions had been carefully painted, and while the front door hung halfway off its hinges, the shop windows were shuttered.

'I count at least half a dozen' Eryno reported, after flicking through the powered armour's internal visual enhancement module's various settings. 'No back entrance, want me to take point?'

Hex looked at Bliks who was considering options. 'How about we see if they will come to us? If they're survivors they probably won't want to budge, and if they're cultists, they'll likely relish a fight with 'deluded crusaders'. We can learn a lot in that alone. At least we can do some spell preparation this time.'

Backtracking slightly, Hex cut in behind another nearby building so he could circle around in front of Topaz Solutions without drawing attention from those inside. Bliks, meanwhile waited until her companions were prepared, and then walked down the middle of the street until she stood opposite what she guessed was an alchemical shop. She sent the magical disk carrying the still comatose dwarf around a corner so as to be out of sight.

"Hail and well met!" She said in a slightly elevated voice. "Speak now and declare yourselves; friend or foe?"

A minute passed as Bliks feigned shielding her eyes from the sun, looking towards the shop. 'I've got movement' Eryno whispered unnecessarily over the link, 'Two are heading to each of the front windows, while there are two, maybe three, heading to the door'

The door then creaked further open and a voice called out, "None but demons walk the streets! Be gone, you foul spawn of the Pit!"

"I am no demon, sir, but a traveller from Numeria, finding your fair city in this terrible state." Bliks called back.

"Such are the lies of demons! Yet if what you say is true, you would do well to leave us, for we do not welcome strangers!"

Bliks sighed. Kenabres had long cultivated paranoia, fearing infiltration by disguised demons or their followers. "I am no stranger to Kenabres! I studied under The Scholar Miammir and seek only to aid survivors."

'They're discussing what to do' Eryno chimed in over the link, 'They agree that you at least look like a wizard, but they …' he paused when the voice inside the shop once again called out.

"If you wish to aid us, then know we need gold, for those who hoard food will not easily part with it! Leave what you have where you stand, and when you leave we will thank your generosity."

'You're not going to fall for that, are you?' Eryno asked in a somewhat joking tone, 'I mean it's a classic con, that they're just poor villagers who so fear you they don't want to show their faces but need your coin purse … and now the ones at the windows look like they're readying bows.'

"You had your chance at honesty." Bliks replied under her breath, her hands falling to her sides. She then looked intensely at the door and spoke the final words needed to complete a Shout spell. The dirt at her feet blasted away from her, as the shockwave of sound crashed into the building, slamming the door shut, shattering the glass front windows and blowing the shutters inwards.

Dazed and ears ringing from the spell, the brigand behind the now closed door couldn't hear but saw blood fountain from the chests of his compatriots still reeling from the shock and flying glass shards of Bliks' spell. Then the door flew open and a massive figure in unfamiliar armour blocked their only exit. With a sweep of one of its arms, it brought a glowing mace down on the other remaining looter. The brigand staggered back, collapsing into a heap on the floor.

'Two survivors' Eryno reported, just as Bliks breezed into the shop. For a store, it was rather drab and unassuming, its shelves cleared of goods, either by these thieves or its now seemingly departed proprietor. 'Nice shooting Hex!'

Bliks glared at the now grovelling brigand. "If demons weren't enough of a problem, we have looters and thieves like you to deal with. And now, because of your treachery, there are four less of us to face the endless hordes of the Abyss. You were," she paused to consider their livery, "Ash Ravens? Not even crusaders, just mercenaries, here for coin. Your kind disgusts me; why shouldn't we send you to Pharasma with your friends?"

"They might be redeemed." Hex answered instead, slipping into the shop behind Eryno.

Bliks looked at the android and then back to the brigand, "What do you say? For your lives, we'll bind you, take you to one of the orders who will take you into their service?"

The man looked between the unnaturally billowing robes of the wizard, the impassive face of the calmly reloading gunslinger, and the bulk of the powered armour and meekly nodded. "Alright then." 'Eryno, tie them up before that one comes around.'

'You might want to check out that corner,' Eryno replied, this time over the link, 'There should be a basement to this place, and that's the only shelf with goods still on it.'

Hex nodded and stepped past the now weeping man, carefully examining the shelf Eryno had pointed out. Bliks meanwhile busied herself with searching the rest of the room, shifting the corpses of the four brigands into one corner. The only things that radiated magic were a few arrows in one of the quivers and a pair of potions. The sylph shook her head when she found the large sack, clearly stuffed with a variety of looted goods; they were not even scavenging for food, just taking what valuables they could find.

Hearing a click from the corner, Bliks recognized that Hex had found the concealed entrance to the basement. 'After you, sir.' She sent to Eryno, who again bobbed his head and squeezed his frame through the door and down the stairs. After a couple of minutes Eryno signalled that they were safe to follow.

The basement was damp and musty with walls of packed earth and the floor covered in a sludge of rotting plant matter. Dozens of gourds lay on the ground, their cords carefully sliced by one of Eryno's many tools. Eryno stood near the stairs holding a clockwork toy in the shape of a six armed woman with a snake's body instead of legs. 'This was on that table, some kind of trap.' He said over the link, 'Neat toy though.' He fiddled with it and the six arms lunged forward in a sudden movement. Bliks could tell he was smiling under his visor.

'For a Marilith, a powerful warrior demon I would disagree; for a toy, I would agree. If you don't mind, I'd like to disassemble it for the Church of Brigh. And that,' she pointed to a pair of pentagrams, one inset in the other, with a stylized goat head in the centre, above a lone table, 'is a symbol for Baphomet. I doubt those brigands had any idea they were ransacking the shop of a demon worshiper.'

'In Kenabres?' Hex asked, a slight edge of surprise entering his tone.

Bliks shook her head, 'They have done their best to root out this kind of corruption, but it's been an endemic problem throughout the crusades. Most of the time they go too far, burning the pure alongside the foul.'

'Oh, yeah, I'd be careful of that vial on the table. This … Mariluth? … was right behind it. Would have smashed it if it activated.' Eryno added as an afterthought.

While Hex waited on the bottom step Bliks rose above the slime on the floor floating towards the table. Halfway across the room the symbol blazed with a garish red light. Then the mouth of the goat seemed to first chew and then spoke, making her recoil, "Ahh… I hope you are among Iomedae's slaves… I would hate to think of mere peasants wanting such a personal greeting from Lord Baphomet!"

Each of the companions had their attention drawn to a different subject in the room that all seemed to happen at once. For Eryno it was his new toy, whose arms lunged but without his activating its mechanism, causing him to drop it in surprise. Bliks saw a flurry of weeds and vines burst from the corner, one striking and shattering the vial, spewing four rapidly growing vaguely humanoid figures into the room. Finally Hex focused on the source of the vines, a larger accumulation of plant matter in the corner, some kind of amalgam of old sticks, briars, thistles, and nettles nestled in and around roots and vines, that rose swiftly from the packed earth floor.

Each of them had been so distracted that the vines that were lancing across the basement towards them went undefended, catching Bliks around her neck and Hex and Eryno by their weapon arms. Instinctively Bliks' hands went to her throat, clawing at the tightening, spiked vine that cut off her breath, while Eryno's enhanced strength merely snapped the vine that had struck him; Hex struggled to free his arm from its grip. Then across the sickly floor the four humanoid figures that the vial had somehow contained charged, their form now visible as some kind of minotaur, but with its skin falling off in places and its head clean of flesh, splitting their numbers between the ranger and the gunslinger as the wizard hung in the air.

'Cut. CUT!' Bliks sent over the link, as she slashed the vine holding her neck with her dagger, only to see another fly across the room to re-establish a choke hold on her. And while the vine impaired his aim, Hex was able to rapidly empty his revolver's chambers into his nearest assailant before the second rammed its horned head into his chest; the android grunted and was almost knocked down. Eryno's initial success with one vine faced the same fate that Bliks did, but instead of just one, two vines lashed out across the room, trying to pin his arms to his body. The two abominations that he faced tried to gore him, finding his armour too tough to penetrate.

Out of the corner of the room shambled a shape like the torso of a humanoid topiary, the vines it was attacking the Torch Bearers with coming from its chest area, while where its head should be, a maw of dripping spines gaped. Again sawing at the vine around her neck, Bliks told the others, 'Dreadweed! Just kill it!' Without her voice, her choice of spells was severely limited.

Reaching for his belt, Hex drew a rarely used firearm with his free but off hand and levelled it against the head of his attacker. A pull of the dragon pistol's trigger blasted the undead creature full of a mixture of silver and cold iron shards, sending its ruined body flailing backwards. Eryno's struggle against both sets of assailants made him stagger, uninjured but incapable of responding in kind.

Then a crackling black ray of energy arced along one of the vines trying to wrap up the powered armour ranger. Despite its protection, he could feel his life essence being drained, sapping his mind and body equally, far worse than the disease the Warped One had struck him with barely an hour earlier. Again the vine surged with black energy, again draining his life; the Dreadweed grew in response, starting to brush the ceiling of the basement.

Hex then tried to bring his firearm to bear on the corrupted mass of plant matter, but each pull of the trigger was matched with a corresponding jerk of the vine still wrapped around his arm, as bullets thudded into the soft earth around the beast. With a show of fading strength, Eryno managed to rip an arm free long enough to bring his mace down on one of the minotaurs, crushing in its unholy skull, only to have his arm rebound to his torso.

Feeling her own breath starting to wane, Bliks instead focused on the memory of casting Magic Missile, hearing the words ring in her ears, her hands crafting the symbols needed to draw out their power, and with a burst of light, a hail of magical energy darts blasted from her eyes, flying across the space to blast chunks of vegetation out of the Dreadweed. Sensing her threat, the creature yanked the sylph through the air, its mouth widening to consume what it could.

Bliks smiled as she raced towards this spiky maw, now out of the range of her companions, she briefly thought of the lessons on metal her father had given her, shaped to suit her arcane will, as her skin became as rigid as iron and then shattered, shredding the plant as hundreds of tiny jagged pieces of metal ripped through the air.

Without the vine to distract his aim, Hex turned his attention to the last standing opponent, shooting it repeatedly until its unliving form ceased moving. Eryno merely slumped to the ground.

'Enervation,' Bliks said over the link, thinking the words while her mouth panted for breath, 'The thing drained him … you'll get better, but not till tomorrow.'

'Great. I think I'll sleep here.'

Looking at their surroundings, the smashed and now disintegrating corpses of the minotaurs, the splintered remains of the Dreadweed, and the rotting plants, Bliks was stunned.

'Inheritor, can't get a joke can you Bliks?'

'Can you stand?' Hex asked, to which Eryno paused then roughly got to his feet. With wood creaking thumps, he went up the stairs, only for Bliks to hear him crush into splinters some chair upstairs while attempting to sit in it. The android nodded to Bliks before leaving her alone in the basement.

Even alone she kept in contact, 'I think the vial was some kind of Alchemist trap, likely a Preservationist, but this is the first I've heard of undead creatures being able to be stored.' She floated over to the table, seeing a chest secreted underneath it. 'Did you check this chest for traps?'

She patiently waited for Eryno to give an exhausted response, 'Yes. Clear,' before opening it. Inside were a half dozen miniature swords with a sun emblazoned around the hilt and a note. Picking the latter up she read it to the others.

'Just found a note. Ahem, we don't need these anymore … they're talking about some holy symbols of Iomedae … but figured if you survived our surprise, it would be just plain rude to leave behind an empty chest for your troubles.' She looked at the symbols again and sighed, 'And of course, they've coated the symbols with a contact poison.' A quick casting of the cantrip Prestidigitation wiped the symbols clean before she removed them from the case, wrapping them together with a short piece of twine, and putting them in a side pocket of her backpack.

Coming up the stairs, Bliks saw Eryno sitting on the floor in the ruins of a stool, the floating disk with the female dwarf sitting obediently where she had left it, the four bodies of the quite dead looters, their two bound survivors, and Hex, standing in the shade of the ruined window keeping a watch. His lack of a need for sleep meant she often saw him thus in the morning at camp and gave her a sense of relief after the scuffle in the basement.

'It's not far, but it might be a bit tricky; we've got to get through one of those gouges.'

Hex nodded and Eryno merely got to his feet. Bliks untied their captives legs and had them go ahead of them as they left the now even more abandoned shop. A short walk took them to the edge of one of the massive gouges, this one running from the north east to the south west, lining up directly with the former cathedral at the top of the city's hill. While the far side appeared to have a much more gradual rise, the dropoff they were facing was considerable. Motioning everyone back, Bliks floated above the rim of the cut, then drew upon her bonded ring to cast Transmute Rock to Mud in an increasingly deep pattern such that a muddy sluice formed, giving them easy if dirty access to the gouges' bottom.

At their rear, Eryno seemed to be starting to lag, his feet pounding in and out of the mud, but once they cleared the transmuted earth, his pace picked up again. Wordlessly they navigated the far side of the gouge, which turned out to be more difficult than Bliks had estimated. Once they reached the top of the gouge, their objective, a stout but massive stone inn called Defender's Heart, was close but out of reach; another chasm separated them.

'Look, Eryno you're in no place to fight, and Hex, we can't leave him alone with the prisoners.' Bliks sent, once they had all crested the ridge. 'If they're crusaders in there, I can talk to them. If not, I've got the best chance of escaping unharmed.' Hex merely nodded and ushered the rest of the group into the shelter of a relatively intact storefront.

Keeping the floating disk and thus the dwarf in mind, Bliks was restrained from crossing the chasm directly, so travelled down a surprisingly unsullied street. To avoid approaching the inn from an alley, she took a relatively long way around a cluster of buildings, until the inn was in sight.

It was a broad structure, shaped from cyclopean slabs of stone roughly mortared together. It had been constructed early in Kenabres history, built as a refuge for crusaders before the construction of the New Kenabres district, let alone the Gate district that grew up around it. The stone had been acquired from the early days of the nearby Truestone quarry, dragged roughly over the land until they were propped up here. Since then refinements were made, adding internal floors and walls, a slightly sloped roof, and eventually all the comforts that could be expected in any inn throughout the Inner Sea. It's reputation for attracting rough clientele had made her father Mahir al-Volgeling bar Bliks from visiting it during her previous stay in the city.

Finally one of the guards noticed her approach, which was first announced with a crossbow bolt flying towards the sylph's chest. A sudden gust of air from her Fickle Winds spell, cast as part of the preparations before they had encountered the looters, sent the bolt tumbling skyward. "You there! Stop where you are!"

Bliks scanned the building, trying to see which window to address, then shrugged and replied, "Certainly! But I have citizens of and visitors to Kenabres who need clerical aid. Speak, crusader, what order do you hail from?"

"Silence witch! Drop to your knees or the next bolt will cut through your enchantments!"

"Has my reputation spread so far? So you know of me, the Androffan Witch of Numeria? Crusader, you should then know of what I am capable; I mean you no harm."

"I SAID SILENCE!" This the unseen figure punctuated with another bolt that, when hitting the column of varying wind surrounding Bliks, dashed against the cobblestones.

"If you are indeed a crusader, that is. My spells are still fresh with the blood of both Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth and jackal looters, I do not wish to add to that today. Come, you've seen neither your words nor your bolts can threaten me, let us parley."

This left Bliks standing quietly in the middle of the street. As the minutes passed, she took the opportunity to check on the dwarven craftswoman, still finding her comatose. Then a new voice called from the bunker like inn, this one somewhat guttural but feminine. "Who there wishes to approach this bastion?"

"My name is Bliksemani Volgeling, daughter of Mahir al-Volgeling of Alkenstar, wizard of the metallic school, student of The Scholar Miammir, follower of the Whisperer in Bronze, and magister and chancellor of the Land of Fallen Stars."

"That's a fine title, wizard, but how can we know you speak the truth?"

"You may also know me as the sole survivor of Salvius' expedition just after the four thousandth year of Absalom to map the Yathscar, ill fated, whose return was heralded by the rising of an angel into the skies above the Worldwound. I have not gone through that madness and these ruins to bandy words with those who would shoot to kill before knowing their target."

That last comment seemed to have the desired effect, as Bliks could hear a confusion of arguing voices. The bolt out of the blue had suggested to her some inexperienced watchman, whose orders had not been to merely kill anyone who approached. And yet she had to continue to wait.

Then the front doors of Defender's Heart opened and a tall, powerfully built yet fully armoured woman strode out alone. Her gear was of the finest quality, a suit of burnished bronze alloyed full plate, a painted white steel shield strapped to her left arm and a Morningstar in her right hand, while a great crossbow hung from her back and longsword at her hip. Around her neck, secured with heavy links, was the sword and sun symbol of Iomedae, crafted out of wrought iron.

"No demons or their minions have yet to successfully challenge the Eagle Watch, so do not think yourself safe from harm if you are one of their kin. But if your story is true, we have need for your aid."

Bliks nodded and sent to her companions, 'Make your way here, I've found not only survivors, but help.'


	8. The heart of a defender

As soon as Hex and Eryno cleared the alley shortcut they had taken, the armoured woman turned on Bliks, raising her morningstar into a defensive position, "You come to parley and yet you also come with bound crusaders? Explain yourself, witch."

"First, while there are those who call me a witch, that I am not." Bliks said, then sent over the link, 'Hang on, we've got a bit of a misunderstanding I need to clear up.' Hex looked at the two women in street, nodded and brought their group to a stop.

"And now you speak without words! Demons are well known for their telepathy."

The mild winds around Bliks stirred the dust in the street, reflecting her frustration. "It is not telepathy, it is a kind of Androffan technology, a boon we gained from the ruins of the crashed vessels that cover Numeria. This is but one gift we hope to share to help combat the demonic hordes." Most of that was true, except that the boon had come from a malfunctioning repair drone in the town of Torch. The drone itself had come from the local ruins and in trying to 'repair' the companions who it saw as improperly equipped crewmen, infected them with a nanite virus that built their first cybernetics.

"Come now, you are a Paladin of Iomedae are you not? Will you not look upon our auras to see if we carry the taint of evil?" Bliks concluded as calmingly as she could.

The armoured woman took a few steps back, lowered her arms to her sides, and then stared intensely at first Bliks then Hex and the rest of the group. "I do not sense evil, but we know that auras can be concealed, you will have to be tested."

"Certainly, certainly! We only ask to be given a fair hearing, not be judged by those who would burn a suspect as soon as greet them." Kenabres had long had a reputation for being the centre of widespread witch hunts, peaking in the third Mendevian Crusade, led by the city's now leader, Prelate Hulrun Shappok, an Inquisitor with the ashes of many on his conscience.

The armoured woman nodded and removed her helm. As Bliks had suspected from her tone, she was indeed a half-orc, her green skin, pointed ears, and small tusks protruding up from her lips, all tell tale signs of her heritage. Her hair was black and cut short, a simple military cut, and below that, her yellow eyes held Bliks firmly. 'A ploy', Bliks thought 'How often have you shocked someone by revealing your face?' Neither Hex nor Eryno showed any shock, the former from his general impermeable nature as an android, the latter because of the heavy powered armour's visor blocking all expressions he might have made.

"On the soul of my wife, Anevia Tirabade, and the holy Inheritor, I will ensure you get your fair hearing, wizard." The paladin paused, then clipped the morningstar into her belt. Without hesitation she extended her hand in greeting, "I'm sorry, Bliksemani is it? I am Irabeth Tirabade, captain of the Eagle Watch. Welcome to Defender's Heart."

As they approached the stout building, Bliks drew up the floating disk supporting the still unconscious dwarf, and nodded at the guards manning the small towers on each of the four quadrants of the building. The wide windows on the second floor were open, with more guards at almost every other one. A slot was open in the double doors, with a pair of eyes watching their approach, disappearing with the thud of a heavy bar being slid out of position. While Irabeth had put away her weapon, the door opened to a small foyer with three crusaders, their longswords drawn, their shields at the ready. These three wore different tabards, one clearly a member of the Eagle Watch, another wearing the white and gold of the crusade, while the third wore heraldry unfamiliar to Bliks; many tried to found a legacy in battle against the demons. Ahead of them, instead of the usual set of doors that would lead into an inn, were a pair of arrow slits, and glancing upwards Bliks noted the uncovered murder holes in the ceiling. They made a sharp turn through another set of doors and into a wide common area.

The smell of people in cramped quarters wafted through the air as soon as the door opened, and there were bedrolls and cots covering most of the floor. Tables had been pushed against the wall and served as impromptu bunk beds, while the benches had been moved elsewhere. Only a few weary faces turned to observe the new arrivals, as most seemed to be engrossed in their own conversations, games, and distractions. The group was shepherded to a room directly opposite the doors they had just come through, off the larger room, but clearly some kind of guard room, with barred windows and an iron banded wooden door.

"These two," speaking to the Eagle Watch guard in the foyer Irabeth pointed at the two bound Ash Raven mercenaries being directed by Hex, "take them to the holding cells. I'm not sure if they're demons, but their auras are foul."

Bliks paused at the threshold of the guard room, and asked "Could something be done for this dwarf? We ministered as best we could, but cultists had done something to her before they decided she was to be sacrificed."

"Of course. Crocris!" Irabeth barked, then directed two nearby Eagle Watch guards in padded armour to lift the dwarf off the energy disk. Out of the crowd pushed a harried half elf, a wreath of ash leaves barely clinging to his forehead.

Straightening his patched vest, the elf said, "How can this humble servant of Immonhiel serve … again?"

The half orc gently rested her hands on his shoulders, "I know we have asked much of you, friend, but if we ever hope to retake your charge in Truestone Park, we need to help all those who may in turn help us. Come, what can you do for this woman?"

Looking at where her hands rested, then back at Irabeth, Crocris slumped his shoulders and turned, stooping to where the guards had laid the dwarven craftswoman. "Looks like she was suffering from some fever, but its broken, and she just needs rest." He opened one of the dwarf's eyelids, "I'd say she's having some quite terrible dreams right now, but they're dreams, not nightmares. A faint distinction, but it is preferable."

Irabeth smiled and nodded, then gestured for the Torch Bearers to continue into the guard room. The first chamber was small, with two seats in front of barred windows, one facing into the common room and the other into another larger room. "It serves as both a mustering space for the guards and an impromptu screening room." The half orc explained.

As they entered the larger room the first thing that caught their attention was a small creature resting on a platform in the corner. It was curled up under a blanket, but seemed to have both wings and a trunk poking out of the folds of cloth. Irabeth whistled, then called out "Varken! Wake up you cute little thing."

"NO! Is cold." A whiny voice floated up from the creature, who then seemed to try to bury itself deeper into the blankets.

"That's what you always say, and the inn hasn't been even cool for days now."

"Still cold!"

Irabeth looked at Bliks, whispering "Have you ever had to deal with a sin seeker before?" She then rolled her eyes, glaring in the direction of the little creature, "Of course you could hear us. Now come out and I'll see if I can get you a warm blanket."

"Used?"

"That's how you like them, isn't it?" Irabeth shook her head this time, trying to express her disbelief without words.

With a happy squeal, the creature used its trunk to pull the blanket over its back, then awkwardly held it in place while it flew over to the table, to settle down, wrapping the blanket around itself again. In that short period, Bliks could see the strange creature, a mixture of pig, elephant, and bat.

"What is that thing?" Eryno grumbled. The half orc staggered back, catching herself on the edge of the table.

"Did your golem just speak?"

Hex looked at Irabeth, "That is Eryno, my spymaster." Eryno didn't even nod, just leaned, exhausted, into the wall.

"That's a suit of armour?"

"Another one of the Androffan relics we recovered." Bliks explained, slapping Eryno on the shoulder, "Put a commoner in it and they could wrestle a Cambion and that's the least of its abilities." She then took a seat facing back towards the door and the barred window, where she expected their interrogator to sit. "And Eryno, that's a sin seeker; I've only heard of them before. Can you feel that light pawing at your mind? It's trying to ensure that you can't lie, conceal anything on your person, or even escape from restraints."

"All good!" The creature squeaked.

"That's debatable" Eryno groaned and then bit his tongue when Hex waved him off.

Irabeth smiled, "Still a start. I can only sense evil auras, but Varken can sense all sorts of different auras. Still, you could be concealing your aura with magic."

Again the creature squeaked, "No disorder!"

"More positive information. Now if you may," Irabeth pulled a small vial from her belt pouch, pouring its contents into a cup, "Please drink."

Hex looked at Bliks, who immediately cast a short spell.

"What, pray tell, was that?" The paladin asked, her eyes narrowing.

"You can't honestly expect the Black Sovereign of Numeria to drink just anything presented to him, can you?" Bliks replied flatly. "As your inquisitor can attest," she pointed past Irabeth to the figure observing the activity from behind the barred window, "That was a Detect Poison spell, nothing more."

Turning her attention to the tall but gaunt man, Irabeth matched Bliks' tone and said "Hierarch Hawkblade, I had not yet sent for you."

Clearing his throat, he threaded his fingers together, leaning towards the bars, "Sent for or not, here I am. Please continue."

"This is my inquiry, not yours!"

"For now. Rightfully even the Order of Heralds would give them to me." He replied, hiding his lips behind his fingers, "Barring me would, perhaps, hinder your position with the Watch." At that, the paladin gritted her teeth. Then the inquisitor sat up a touch, a thin smile on his lips, "Besides, I am here for your protection, if they are not what they seem."

Turning her back to the window Irabeth bit off, "I … appreciate your attendance, Hierarch. Was the wizard truthful about the spell?"

"Of course. And may I ask, has the creature blanketed the room in a Zone of Truth yet?"

Upon hearing even the suggestion of action on its part, Varken chirped, "Zone set!" Bliks could feel an even greater force on her mind, much more direct than the mere cloying the sin seeker gave off naturally. She fought the urge to resist the spell, knowing both that if she resisted that alone would be suspicious, but also that if she relented she could only choose between silence and truth.

"No resistance!" Varken almost purred.

Eryno opened his visor, carefully rubbing his forehead with a powered armoured gauntlet, "Guy sure is upbeat." He then stepped forward, picking up the cup, "Clear Bliks?"

"Yes. But I suspect they want us to each have some, so please don't drink it all."

"Whatever. Alright.", Eryno shrugged, and then took a sip. "It's water." He looked at the paladin with a tired expression, "You kinda got my hopes up."

"Holy water." Irabeth corrected.

Eryno passed the cup to Bliks adding, "Don't you guys have holy wine? Or better, holy ale?"

The half orc eyed the ranger as Bliks interjected, "I'm sure they're looking into it." And then she too took a sip before passing it to Hex, who drank without comment.

"Now Varken, please require them to confess." Irabeth said, pointing first at Bliks, who could feel a compulsion pass through her, the urge to tell the truth pressing even further to the front of her mind than either of the previous two spells, "Are you now or have you ever been a cultist to a Demon Lord?"

Unbidden Bliks blurted out, "No!" The heavy weight of the compulsion passed, leaving a general pressure for truth telling, and she blinked repeatedly. 'Confess,' she thought to herself, 'answer truthfully or be injured. They're pulling out the stops.'

Turning to Eryno, the paladin repeated the question which he wearily replied "No." Of the three of them Hex seemed least bothered by the experience, his response betraying no change in tone.

"Does that satisfy you, Inquisitor? They drank the water without harm and answered the question without resistance, so they can be neither demon nor cultist."

"I will be satisfied. After you apply the Fingers of Iomedae."

The paladin lowered her eyes and said, "Do not dare to try to direct me, Liotr. Only by the grace of the Watch is your throat not slit in the night by one of the faithful whose relatives were sent to Pharasma by the howls of your order. Long is the shadow cast by those pyres."

"Heretics. Cultists. Demons. Every one. What is necessary is not to be regretted."

"Perhaps", Bliks interrupted the two quarrelling Iomedaens, "If you tell us what the Fingers are, we can ease your concerns of their use?"

Hierarch Liotr Hawkblade reached into a satchel at his side, pulling out a roll of cloth about the size of a scroll case, made a hushed prayer, then laid it on the counter below the bars on the window. Unrolling it, Bliks first considered it to be some kind of surgical kit, then remembered the Inquisitor's position. From the mixture of tongs, knives, and clasps, he pulled a three headed scalpel. Mounted on a finely crafted wooden handle were equally set blades of silver, cold iron, and steel, all well honed.

As Irabeth was about to speak, Bliks again interrupted, "An interesting, if primitive design. May I suppose that their mode of operation is to press against the skin, and if the blades penetrate at different rates, you can see if the … subject … has a weakness to different kinds of metal?" The Inquisitor seemed offended and was about to speak when Bliks continued, "I say primitive because I would use needles, not blades, and measure the absolute resistance rather than something subjective like 'is it cutting their skin'. I'm sure subjectivity has never been a problem with the Inquisition, has it Hierarch? I could imagine holding it at a slightly different angle, even the pure could be seen as having some defence against mere steel."

"Even your suggestion is heretical!"

"Of course it is, which is my point." Bliks replied, "You I could trust to test us properly, but not all are as skilled as you, and so a mistake, and thus heresy, could happen."

Before the Inquisitor could come up with a reply, Hex had crossed the short distance between them, thrusting his bare arm through the bars. He looked Liotr in the eye and said, "Test me, Inquisitor," then placed his palm on the tool kit laid out between them.

The Ulfen man returned the android's blank gaze and then nodded, turning the Fingers of Iomedae in his hand until he felt the blades equally pressing against Hex's skin. With careful pressure, he pulled the blades with increasing downward force, until three black lines ran along the gunslinger's forearm. "My blood is not red." Hex simply stated, then withdrew his arm. Rolling his sleeve back in place, the nanites had little work to do to seal the cuts in his flesh, leaving no hint of injury behind.

In silence, as Eryno first removed his gauntlet and then the vambrace protecting his forearm, Bliks submitted herself to the Inquisitor's unfeeling care, her arms shortly sporting three parallel lines of blood. As the powered armour's elbow guard could not be removed without removing the entire shoulder piece, the bars blocked his arm from reaching as far as the others, which the Inquisitor grumbled at as he had to reach across the counter. With a flash the half elf snatched the wooden handled blade from the older man, withdrawing his hand to inspect the fork like knife.

"Have you ever had this used on you?" Eryno asked the Inquisitor, pointing the blade to make his point. Liotr snorted in derision, then loosened the synch at the wrist of his chainmail shirt so he could pull it back. His forearm now exposed, it was crisscrossed with fresh and scarred trios. "Alright then. Do me."

"I apologize but am not sorry for that," Irabeth said after Liotr had left, the delicate snicks and whirs of Eryno reassembling his armour otherwise filling the space, "As you seem to know, Kenabres has not been without demonic infiltration."

Bliks rubbed the now healed patch of skin, nanites stitching her skin back together as they had with Hex, and stated "Their infiltration not just a matter of history."

"What do you mean?"

"Eryno's weakness was not a result of a clash with cultists in the streets, but from a well prepared trap. A trap set in a shrine to Baphomet, in the basement of a shop just to the north west."

"There have been whispers of this. After the Order of Heralds curtailed the most extreme of the inquisition, there were those who claimed the demons had spies everywhere and remained among us for years. Only recently has any proof of their presence manifested. I personally managed to root out one of their more powerful members, the leader of a group called the Hammers of Heaven, Stauton Vhane. We all though he was a model crusader, but as far as I was able to discern, he's been working for the demons for … decades. There's even evidence he may have betrayed Drezen to its fall 75 years ago."

The paladin self consciously tried to itch her shoulder but the layers of armour foiled her, so she continued, "They knighted me for that discovery. I'm still not sure why … he slipped through my fingers and is out there still, causing who knows how much more damage." She paused again, gathering her thoughts, "They call themselves the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth, a reference to Baphomet's lair I'm told. That they straddle the line between demon and mortality makes them one of the most dangerous elements we face."

"Is there somewhere I can lie down?" Eryno cut in, the fatigue in his voice becoming increasingly noticeable.

"Yes, yes, of course." Irabeth replied, "It might take a few minutes, but I'm sure Mr. Otai could find a few rooms for such distinguished guests." She then nodded to the air and stepped out of the screening room.

"Blanket!" The creature under the pile of cloth on the table whined out to her back.

The paladin stopped and hung her head, shaking it slowly. "Of course little one, I hadn't forgotten."

Bliks whispered a short cantrip and laid her hand on the blanket covering the sin seeker, focusing on warming it until a cooing came from the creature's snout. 'We should consider a breeding program to support your agents, Eryno,' she sent over the link.

Not wanting to contribute to the crowd in the common room, the Torch Bearers waited for Irabeth to return in the screening room. 'This city is in need of support, and that paladin gave no indication she expected to be relieved by the Mendevian crusade anytime soon. Even those commoners seem to have bunked down for the long haul.' Bliks continued, pulling what at first glance was a skymetal chest out of her satchel.

Setting the chest on the table, she pressed a button on the side, popping out a silverdisk to check its charge. As it still had several more uses, she slid it back in place. 'Then activate the Iron March protocol.' Hex replied. Undoing a series of clips, she flipped the lid back, seeing the contents had not changed; they hadn't received anything since they had left Starfall. Next she wound up the little music box that laid inside and pulled a letter from a side pouch of her satchel, putting both back in the box. Once the clips were secured, she flipped the safety cover and pressed the activation button on the quantum box.

Over two hundred miles to the south, an aide in a secure room on the second floor of the Palace of Fallen Stars in Starfall, heard a tune coming from one of the boxes behind his workspace. He put down the report he had been drafting, and mirroring Bliks' actions, opened the paired quantum box, silenced the music box, and withdrew the letter, its waxen seal showing the insignia of the Black Sovereign. Noting that the wax had been given a blue tint, it was within his security clearance to open, so he snapped it open, laying the document over his report. At the top of the page was a frequency he easily tuned his commset to, and then started reading.

"One one zero one zero zero one. One one one zero zero one zero. One one zero one one one one. One one zero one one one zero. One one zero one one zer one. One one zero zero zero zero one. One one one zero zero one zero. One one zero zero zero one one. One one zero one zero zero zero. Message repeats."

He then tapped the side of the commset, playing back the recording, double checking its accuracy. Once he was satisfied, he took off the headset and pressed send and loop.

Several hundred feet to the north east, a green light illuminated on the side of an inactive Myrmidon robot. XAU-2-UN-67's central eye cluster began to glow red as it brought the rest of its systems online. Nearby RNU-1-UN-893, a metallic beetle shaped Observer robot, received the Myrmidon's query and fired up its boosters to help the combat robot go through its start up diagnostics. Once they completed the checklist, XAU-2-UN-67 signalled the elevator to clear the shaft for air launch. Transparent blast shields closed around the other floors of the elevator as the robot boosted itself into position. Confirming the exit door had irised open, XAU-2-UN-67 rocketed into the sky over Starfall, quickly vectoring north as its chipfinder started to hone in on the tracker chip attached to the Annihilator robot XAU-4-UN-7.

'Estimates?' Hex asked.

Bliks thought for a moment, fiddling with a strand of cybernetic hair, 'Say one hour for the message to get to the Heilige Cohort, then another 34, give or take an hour, for them to make their way here. We should expect them well before sunrise two days from now.'

Just as she had finished packing away the quantum box, having received the verification notice from Hex's aide, a grey suited halfling entered the screening room carrying a folded blanket at arms length in front of him. "Varken. VARKEN." Hearing its name being called the sin seeker pulled the blanket back past its eyeless forehead, "Come on Varken, take this stinking, ratty, thing."

"Bring!" The creature chirped excitedly, flying over to its perch, still holding onto its previous blanket with stubby paws. The halfling grunted something obscene in their coded mixture of Taldane and Varisian, then scurried over to drop the somewhat rank cloth on Varken. Snuffling into its new smells and warmth, the pig, bat, elephant mix curled itself up, adding the old blanket on top of the new.

"Now if you may, sires?" The halfling said graciously, indicating they should follow, "Master Otai would like to convey his apologies that he was only able to secure two rooms for your eminences; one for the gentlemen and one for the lady."

"Show Eryno to his room, I do not require it." Hex cut in.

The halfling stifled a surprised expression, then curtly bowed, "As you wish sire. Master Otai remains at your disposal if you have other requirements."

While the interrogation had been short and it was only late in the afternoon, the smell of food and a queue of citizens had already formed in the common room once they entered. "With so many, meals have to be started earlier than custom. You may, of course, dine at the time and place of your choosing." The halfling explained, leading them to a door that opened into a tight stairwell. Hex nodded to the others and headed out into the common room, stopping to talk to the first person he met, shaking their hand and asking their name.

Bliks followed Eryno up the stairs, glad of their stone construction as the half elf could easily smash through wooden ones had he tripped in his drained state. After passing three landings, one with a door to another floor, they were led out into a narrow corridor. "Master Otai's predecessors chose to make the rooms as spacious as possible and had not anticipated guests of your stature." The last comment he directed to Eryno who merely plodded along after the little fellow.

"Your room sire!" The halfling finally exclaimed as they rounded a corner, another grey clad halfling holding a door ajar. Eryno lumbered past the little fellow, finding the largest space in front of a roll up desk, and began methodically taking off the suit.

"He won't need any assistance." Bliks reassured the halflings, "It's a lot simpler to take off than it looks." The halfling at the door looked to her compatriot who merely smiled, so she closed the door on the unharnessing ranger.

With a flourish her halfling guide said "This way please!" and led Bliks to the end of the hall. "Your room has a westward facing window. I hope the lady does not object … there are those who find that sky … disturbing."

The room was comfortable in proportion, with a desk near the door and the bed awkwardly positioned against the far curved wall. Looking up at the high ceiling shed noted a gradual slope away from the centre of the building, while the windows were set high on the curved section of wall, permitting a view of only the sky except if she were to float up to the rafters. No fireplace graced the room, but it was warm nonetheless, whether by the press of bodies downstairs or some central furnace, she didn't care.

"It's fine, thank you. You can tell the kitchen I'll have my meal whenever it is convenient. Until then, I'd like not to be disturbed." Bliks said after a quick survey. Before they closed the door she gave each of the Halflings a gold piece, which she insisted they take, "This horror will not last forever, and you will want gold when that time comes."

She only had a few minutes to orient herself and lay out her equipment before there was a metallic knock on the door. Taking a moment to compose herself, she called out, "Yes?"

The now familiar voice of Irabeth replied, "May I come in? I have a request of you."

"Of course." Bliks replied, settling into an armchair as the paladin made her way into the room. "What's the issue? Should I get the Black Sovereign?"

The half orc shook her head, choosing to sit on a tall stool near the door rather than the offered armchair opposite Bliks. "It is a personal request I bring to you, something only you can fulfill. It's about … my wife." The woman's shoulders slumped as she continued, "What do you know of the attack on Kenabres?"

"I know that it was sudden, unexpected, destroyed the Kite, and seemingly the wardstone as well, alongside much of Old Kenabres. There also seems to have been some convergence at the cathedral, where all these terrible trenches meet; some result of corrupted Vemeraks."

At the mention of the cathedral, Irabeth visibly flinched. "She was there, trying to resolve a dispute between a local money lender and a researcher from Blackwing … and I haven't seen or heard from her since that morning. To my knowledge, the greatest arcanists and clerics of Kenabres fell when the demons attacked … I have only been able to rely on Hierarch Hawkblade and Crocris for any magical support. I hope you might be able to … give me some answers. If her soul has travelled to Pharasma's courts or not.

"I am no augur, Irabeth, but I might be able to do more than just answer your question. Do you have anything of hers, a lock of hair, or something she wore?"

"Since the attack I haven't been able to return to our home … but I do have a handkerchief she had left behind in her rush to her meeting … I had wanted to deliver it to her …" The half orc trailed off.

Bliks outwardly smiled, while wondering how long the paladin had kept this story to herself. "That'll be fine. It'll take me a few minute to prepare and then some time to cast the spell. If you have responsibilities, I can send for you when everything is in place."

"Yes, of course. I'll get it for you right away."

Bliks settled into the armchair and pulled her spellbook from the old, magical satchel. Crossing her legs, she floated into the air, supporting the book with a Mage Hand, while studying the spell she would need. Without knocking, Irabeth entered her room, stopped at the sight of the levitating mage, then wordlessly retreated, leaving the handkerchief behind on the stool.

Casting a spell like this in the field took a lot more preparation and focus than it had when she had tried Scrying the minor officials in Kenabres from Starfall just a couple of days ago, but having a possession of the subject made the process much easier, in the end, than just having the visual report the hologram had provided. As she neared the end of the ritual, she called for the halfling attendant Irabeth had stationed in the hall, "Please tell Irabeth that I'm about ready."

Knocking this time, the paladin entered the room as Bliks completed casting Scrying, her focus on the half orc's wife, a short, brown haired woman, while clasping the handkerchief between her hands. The silver mirror before her glowed momentarily, and then shimmered. In its frame a figure took shape, but the lighting was dim, barely candlelight, so Bliks waved a hand at the lantern in her room and it snuffed out. The figure seemed to stir from a restless sleep as Bliks tried to look around their surroundings.

"I see someone … the owner of this handkerchief …"

"She lives?!"

"Yes, but she does not seem … well … there is something wrong with her leg … and there is another? … a man with bandages around his head, covering most of his face … they're … in a church? … it's so dim, I'm sorry, it's hard to make out details … but rows of stone benches, like pews. Does any of this sound familiar?"

"I cannot say I know of such a place in Kenabres. And it is still light out, could they be underground?"

"That or windows are shuttered, the spell does not let me see more than their immediate surroundings. Still this should be enough."

"By the Inheritor, thank you, that's all I asked for!"

Bliks held up a hand, "That's not what I meant by enough. You have your answers, but with one of my companions incapacitated until tomorrow and the other too important to risk, you yet have me, and I suspect I can be of some aid."

'Guys, I'm going to be going out for a bit.' She sent over the link to Eryno and Hex, 'If I'm not back by morning, please come get me … use the chipfinder in my pack, it's set to my tracking chip's frequency.'

'Acknowledged.' Hex sent back after a delay. Eryno did not respond.

"Now, if everything works out, I should be back in a few minutes. Teleport there, gather up any other survivors, and then Teleport back." She smiled, "You'll be with your wife soon. I'd bring you along, but I don't know how many people will need a trip back and I wouldn't want to leave anyone behind."

Irabeth nodded, "May the blessings of Iomedae go with you, Bliksemani Volgeling. Please bring her back to me."

"I will. And call me Bliks." With that, the wizard closed her eyes and vanished from the room.

Several minutes passed. And then several more. The paladin had patience, but began to worry.


	9. A glimmer in the dark

The room Bliks appeared in was dimly lit, with a much shorter ceiling than the inn making her flinch without need. Looking around she easily made out the benches, but she instead of the two figures she had seen before, who had seemed to have been resting, she instead saw a little more than a dozen cloaked figures all seated on stone pews facing away from her. In front of them knelt another figure in a depression in the ground, the top of their hood barely visible over the congregation. On the far wall was a disk of what appeared to be painted shell depicting the arched opening to a cave, with a glimmer of gold in the darkness.

It took her a few moments to break down the symbol's meaning, mines and hidden wonders, and then she quickly deduced the associated deity, a narrowly worshiped angel, one of the Lords of the Empyrean.

"A follower of the clockwork goddess finds solace in the house of Benorus, and may he guide you in the dark to find and preserve the secrets of the deep." She said, bowing her head as she drew her holy symbol out from underneath the folds of her cloak.

There was a stir in the room, but the figure at the front spoke first, "Well said, stranger. For without He Who Delves in Beauty what could you possibly …" then gasped and shouted, "uplander!"

Who she assumed was the priest was looking at her, his hood still covering his face, pointing, while the room burst into chaos. The seated figures shouted or screamed, trying to dash from the room through a door in the side wall of the shrine. "Wait! No, what?" Bliks tried to say above the commotion but was drowned out.

Then the priest threw back his hood, revealing a nightmarish creature, seemingly stitched together from half a dozen different races. His jaw and most of the right side of his face was elongated like a hyena, while the remainder sagged like the bones underneath were too small for the flesh to stretch over them. The hand he pointed with was scaled, while his other hand, drawing a mace from a belt loop, was hairy, having only three powerful fingers.

The room emptied, leaving Bliks and the stitched together man facing each other, but the silence did not last, as there were cries of "Guards!" and "Intruder!" slipping in from the outside.

"You spoke well, and I apologize for my shocked response, but now you must speak quickly." The man said in a hushed tone, gesturing towards the door.

Bliks blinked and then began to ramble, "I mean your people no harm, I am looking for some injured … uplanders … somewhere nearby, I must have miss teleported, my name is Bliksemani." Then the door burst in and two humanoids pushed into the shrine, each sharing the priest's amalgam of body parts, but instead one looked like a kobold, with that creature's draconic features mounted on a dwarf's legs, while the other had the wide carnivorous fish head of a sahuagin attached to an ogre's body.

The short one ran to interpose itself between Bliks and the priest while the larger one grinned, its mouth a field of incisors growling "Submit uplander! Your kind aren't allowed into glorious Neathholm!"

"Drago, Bronk, please." The priest said as calm as possible, patting the short one, Bronk it seemed to Bliks, on the shoulder as he stepped past the diminutive guard. "This uplander is lost. She is not one of those who consort with the traitors."

Without turning his head, Drago rolled one eye to take in the priest while the other remained fixed on Bliks. "Paesonius you are too trusting, these uplanders only bring trouble!"

"Drago my pup, she appeared amongst us like the seam your brother struck into, unexpected but glimmering." Paesonius replied, "Besides, look at her. Her body is like ours, not whole. Her hair! Her eyes like pools of silver. It is a sign from Benorus, a glint in the darkness."

Drago considered Bliks for a moment, then leaned towards her, his mouth gaping. Having regained her composure, she stared at the towering man, fingering a wand in her cloak. He then huffed, his breath thick with the scent of fish, "As you say Paesonius. But Sull will want to see her nonetheless."

The priest smiled, an odd expression between the two sides of his face, "I'm sure our guest would be happy to meet with Chieftain Sull," he replied, turning to Bliks, "Wouldn't you?"

Matching his smile, Bliks said as cheerfully as she could, "Of course I would! It would be an honour to open a dialogue between the surface and the people of Neathholm," trying to subtly emphasize 'people' without sounding condescending. The quiet Bronk merely nodded and led the group out of the shrine into the small community of Neathholm.

From a variety of perspectives the mongrelmen, as Bliks reminded herself they were called in polite company, had founded their community in an auspicious location. On a small island at the centre of a moderately sized cavern whose lake stretched to its edges, it would have been hard to attack but also could control movement through the chamber, allowing it to act as a trade hub. If the water was actually a slow moving but wide river, it would provide both a source of fresh water and disposal of wastes, and even if it wasn't, might have fish or other game available in its depths. Overhead and covering the walls were sheets of luminescent fungi, providing a background lighting similar to the moon at half fullness, which was supplemented by lights in each of the more than a score of small stone buildings.

Trying to sound at peace with this unexpected turn of events, Bliks asked "Drago, where did the people of Neathholm quarry the rocks for their houses?" A small crab head peeked out behind a curtain, a mongrelman child, and the wizard waved cheerfully at them.

Bringing up the rear, the large mongrelman noisily sucked in air through his teeth saying "Our people can only transport the smaller rocks across the waters of Beorhtnanmere, those we use in walls, while larger slabs we dig from the stone beneath us. So long as we seek, Benorus provides."

"Well said! So you have not forgotten all the lessons I taught you." Paesonius beamed, his voice almost jovial.

"You also taught us Benorus blessed us to seek his hidden wonders, that we had no need to seek the surface, that the uplanders could not know the great Delver."

"Yes, well, that was," the priest replied as Bliks could almost see him mentally leaf through his holy texts for a proper reference, a look she had often seen with other members of the faithful, regardless of faith.

His consideration was interrupted by Bronk knocking on the door of the largest building on the island, situated near its centre at the top of a low rise. A lispy but deep voice called out, "Shend them in!"

The thin stone door swung open with the assistance of some kind of creaking pulley system revealing a room that seemed to serve as kitchen, dining room, and parlour, with a hearth on one wall, a table with a handful of stools, and a large stone couch mounded with blankets and pillows in a wild variety of colours. Sitting on one of the stools was an obese human, his silver hair unkempt, but with a face more akin to a ratfolk than any Bliks had ever seen on the surface. Sull smiled broadly, showing only four prominent incisors with a gap on either side having no other visible teeth. Gesturing towards the couch he said, "Come, make yourshelves comfortable!"

"Chieftain, this is the uplander we discovered in Benorus' shrine …" Drago began before Sull cut in.

"Well of courshe she ish, of courshe she ish. Shse would shtand out wouldn't shse?"

"Yes chieftain, but she may be dangerous …" Drago tried again but was again interrupted by the fat man.

"Calm yourshelf loyal, loyal Drago! Shince thoshe tremorsh, we have had much more importansh thingsh to worry about, yesh?"

Drago looked warily at Bliks then back to Sull, "Yes chieftain."

"Good. Good!" The rat faced man said, slapping his side, "After I havesh shpoken with our guesht I will shend for you. But if you witsh you can waitsh outshide." Lifting his gaze away from the others, Drago nodded once, then quickly twice more, before placing a massive hand over his eyes and backing out of the room. Bronk tilted his head to one side, nodded to Sull as well, and turned and followed the large man outside.

Shifting his bulk slightly on his stool Sull asked, "now then Paeshoniush, who ish thish?"

"This is Bliksemani, a worshiper of the clockwork goddess Brigh," the priest replied after gruffly clearing his throat. "She appeared in our chapel after our morning service."

"I shee, I shee." The chieftain eyed Bliks with his one good eye, the other white and clouded. "And whatsh your shtory Missh Bliksemani?"

Not having joined Paesonius on the couch, Bliks bowed slightly saying "My full name is Bliksemani Volgeling, and I am a visitor to the city of Kenabres from Numeria. There has been an attack on the city by demons. My companions and I sought to render aid and comfort."

"Ah yes, she did say she was looking for some more injured uplanders Sull."

"I am seeking friends of an ally, and where they are must be similar enough to your shrine that when my teleport missed, I ended up here rather than there. I humbly ask for your forgiveness for this unexpected and unwelcome intrusion."

"Unwelcome? Unwelcome? Did I shay you were unwelcome?" Sull replied with a disconcerting smile, "I dedushed that there wash trouble upland, but haven't had thesh time to confirm. I actushually exshpected vishitors shooner." He tapped the side of his malformed head, "I'm not in charge hersh becaush of my belly. Now you shaid demonsh?"

In short order Bliks told the two mongrelmen of what she had seen since arriving in Kenabres, from the great trenches and gouges in the land to the blasted and collapsed buildings. Sull seemed particularly interested in her description of both the cultists they had fought and the corpse of a Vemerak. When she informed them that the leader of the remaining crusaders was not only a half-orc but also a Paladin, that information seemed to truly please him.

"Tidingsh! Tidingsh good and bad." The chieftain finally said, "To hear the children of orcsh may fight under Iomedaesh banner, liftsh my shoul," punctuating that final point by pulling the sun and sword holy symbol from one of his gown's many pockets. "Shome of ush shtill follow the old godsh."

Then with a lurch he stood and began pacing across the room, his bare feet slapping against the smooth stone. "I have heardsh of theshe beashtsh, like ush, not quite inshects, not quite fishes, not quite men, but sho not like ush. Twishted, hateful, deshtructive. And we have sheen cultish like thoshe." He threw a small pouch onto the floor at Bliks' feet, a brass bulls head tumbling out. "One of Dragosh patrolsh found theshe near here. Uplandersh had been working wish traitorsh, unclean kin of oursh, but we didn't know they were cultish until after the tremorsh." Then his voice boomed, "they are both affrontsh to our purity!"

The burst of rage seemed to take a sudden toll on the old mongrelman, who staggered back onto his stool, "Dragosh ish shtill waiting for our alliesh to marshsall sho we can crushs them both. On the gravesh of our brave crushader anshestors we will clenshe theshe hallsh of their taint." He then waved his hand at the priest, who immediately took up the narrative.

"You see, we are the children of the Last Crusade. Our parents' parents' parents heard the call and flocked to the upland of Mendev, driving the demons back into their pit. They built fortresses and cities to watch the rift, like the great crusaders of the upland of Lastwall before them." Paesonius explained, "but the Abyss had seeped into their bodies, and the bodies of their children, making them as we are now. Their spirits were not corrupted, so they fled here to raise us far from the eyes that could only see the flesh."

Bliks raised a hand, giving the priest pause, "The Last Crusade? It pains me to say that it was not the last, there have been three more since, but none have achieved as much as what your ancestors did. They were the best of us."

This revelation hung in the air, as the two mongrelmen seemed to be lost in thought or grief. Then the chieftain called out, "Drago! Drago, I needsh to shee you."

The bulky carnivorous fish headed man entered the room after a brief pause, "Yes chieftain?"

"Show her your weaponsh."

Drago nodded and drew an axe whose head was made of chipped sharp obsidian. He then stowed that to display a short blade made of flint. Finally he turned to display a pouch filled with throwing spears crafted of unnaturally long bone.

"I think I understand," Bliks said with a sigh.

"Yesh, yesh! We have the will, the purity, but not the meansh. Cultish, traitorsh," Sull exclaimed, with Drago snorting at the mention of traitors, "they die eashily, but demonsh need deep iron. If our anscheshtorsh did not defeat them, we will rejoin the crushades in their honour."

"But, but we are not ready yet. Ash I shaid, we are gathering our alliesh. You are a powerful mage are you not? Perhapsh you could prove your intenshonsh and we could aid you ash well."

Bliks looked down, considering facing unknown enemies without the support of Hex or Eryno. Each time she had done previously it had not turned out well, even if they were only seconds away. Still she replied, "What do you propose?"

"Our schoutsh know theshe tunnelsh and could find your friendsh, and you know magic and could clear a way to the shurface … through the traitorsh and cultish."

"Alright. What can you tell me about them?"

"We have not seem many of them in our tunnels," Drago replied, "but we know they hunt far and wide beyond that. One of them joined our tribe a years ago, told us that they were not many in number. She said their lair was three levels, with their entrance into our tunnels on the second and their leaders living on the bottom. Then there are these cultists. We don't know much about them except more showed up recently."

"So Blikshemani, do we have a deal Blikshemani? And you shaid your friendsh were hurt? Paeshoniush can heal them when we findsh them or if yoush get hurt fighting the cultish."

Nodding the wizard considered her options. She could only hope that the cultists weren't accompanied by demons as her spell reserves were starting to thin out. "We have a deal"

"Exshellent. Exshellent! Loyal Drago, have one of your guardsh take her acrossh the lake to the Traitorsh Tunnel."

"That won't be necessary," Bliks said, floating slightly off the ground, her clothes and hair billowing in an unseen wind, "just tell me where to go."

While the mongrelmen had a series of primitive docks made out of quarried rock around the narrow shore at the edge of the lake, they kept their woven fungus rafts on the island, further enhancing their security. Halfway across the water, Bliks dropped a feather from her components pouch into the water and watched it intently. There did seem to be a current, flowing towards what she assumed was the west, where the West Sellen lay. Not knowing her depth underground it still seemed reasonable to her as Kenabres was several hundred feet up a cliff from the river. That would mean that, given the directions, she would be heading in a southerly or south easterly direction.

It wasn't a long trip down the darkened tunnel. To Bliks experienced eye, the walls and floor showed evidence of erosion, so it might have been some tributary stream that used to feed into Beorhtnanmere that had found a new channel. They said it'd be a short walk, but Bliks took no chances and hovered along the corridor, wary of making sound or falling into a simple trap. Soon enough the tunnel began to narrow and signs of picks and chisels carving the walls became apparent. Here the path straightened, continuing to push through the rock.

While Eryno had always been their scout, Bliks had tried to learn a few of his tricks to little success, so when she first saw the edge of a barricade of heaped rocks and wooden boards, she rose to the ceiling and stopped moving. 'Either there's no one guarding them or we have the same range of vision in these conditions.' She edged forward a few feet, her cloak scraping against the rough ceiling, until she could make out the entire guard post. 'Only two guards and a wooden door … this might be overkill'

'But if I don't expend these spells, I'll lose their potential anyway, and Hex has been reminding me that I need to stop holding out for perfect opportunities.' She nodded and the mongrelmen at the guard post hardly had a chance to call out into the darkness before she was hurtling towards them.

In that moment, Bliks thought of her mother. Her father had said she had been an Abasheen, a refugee from her home on the Elemental Plane of Air, fleeing the underclass status her race had had there. That her natural abilities suggested she wasn't of pure Abasheen stock further isolated her; she had lacked her fellow's ability to influence others but instead had powers more like but weaker than the Djinni.

In the next moment Bliks thought of her training. Metal was said to be subservient to Earth, in the eye of elementalists but, as her teachers repeatedly said, "Do we not dig the soil with metal? Do we not break apart the rock with metal? There is so much we discard from the earth and yet seek out metal. How can metal be lesser to nearly everything else that the ground has to offer?" And their focus on spells. Shocking Grasp. Defensive Shock. Lightning Bolt. Thus it was no surprise to Bliks then that they spent many afternoon classes watching storms or venturing out under the peal of thunder.

And so the two came together, as she became lightning. Not sheathing herself, not conjuring it to do her will, but ceasing to be flesh and bone, embracing her heritage and her studies to ride the lightning.

She blasted past, over and through the flimsy barricade, the guards stationed there, and the weak wooden screen separating that room from the next, arcing across the width of the next chamber, smashing through a second screen, and continuing until she came to a stop at a solid wall. The small room had slabs of meat hanging from a rack and at the centre of the room were the remains of several barrels exploded by her passage. Behind her, she could see scorched bodies and a hail of splinters now littering the floor of what seemed to be some kind of sleeping quarters. Floating over the smoking corpse of some kind of lizard, she re-entered the larger chamber and was hit with the disgusting scent of long unwashed bodies; the mongrelmen of Neathholm had much better hygene.

She had only a moment to take in the room, its piles of blankets, animal furs, a fire pit, when she saw a door to her right open slightly, and then she was once again the flash and thunder, her electrified body searing someone in passage along with the door they were peeking through. This new room was parallel to the tunnel leading into these warrens but perpendicular to the sleeping quarters and seemed to serve as some kind of trophy hall with shelves and daises of taxidermied vermin. The sound of the crumpling body of the cultist was joined with a sharp intake of breath in surprise of a second as they reached in vain for their glaive. In a heartbeat Bliks reappeared behind the now dead woman, while one of the stuffed creatures burst into flame. Another quick survey of her surroundings made her aware of a short tunnel on her right, across from the door she had sundered, with a ladder going up at its end, and a door just behind her.

The distinct call of alarm rang out from the sleeping quarters and Bliks dashed back to look down the length of that room from the trophy hall. A blue skinned mongrelwoman, some aberrant mixture of human, lizard scales and tail, and jutting insect legs was drawing back a slender longbow before Bliks once again vanished. She felt the arrow sear through her in the instant it took for her to cross the room but its former owner merely collapsed, her body still arcing even in death. Pulling her robe aside, she looked at the painful pattern the arrow had left as it burnt up, but she didn't have time to spare and so flashed down the length of the room to the ladder she had seen earlier.

'If their leaders are below, best to clear out the upper chamber, deprive them of reinforcements'

It was pitted with rust but she didn't even touch it as she rose into the most foul smelling room she had yet found in this complex. The pungent scent of ammonia and a massive pile of shredded cloth barely had a moment to conceal its oversized rat occupants before Bliks had thundered past them, setting their nest, hair and skin on fire.

She continued down a hall, her destructive flight stopping only when an iron door blocked her passage. It was embedded in a more professionally quarried wall and like the ladder, was coated in a thin sheen of rust. Around her blazed another guard post and its former attendants.

'Sewers this deep?' Bliks thought then shook her head, 'You don't know how deep you are silly. Lets finish clearing this area.'

While the door was heavy and rusted, it seemed to have had recent use and swung open easily. The door was set high in the wall with a ladder reaching down to the floor and a small catwalk surrounding the room. The floor of the chamber seemed slick and Bliks glanced upward to the barrel vaulted ceiling and spied a grating. 'Some kind of cistern maybe? Or an overflow vault? Father would have known.'

Then her eyes were drawn to a brick structure on the floor of the room. It was tall with a wide entrance, but appeared to lead into a series of short corridors and turns that concealed the rest of its interior. It stretched from one wall to the other, blocking the entirety of the room opposite the door at which she stood, and she could hear some kind of gibbering laughter emanating from it.

"Hey! Come out you beast. You've got a tasty treat right here!" Bliks shouted, 'Best to draw whatever it is out, fight it in the open. Wait …' she glanced towards the catwalk where she thought she had seen movement, '… keep your eyes open.'

'EatYouChopYouFlayYouPlayWithYourBones' the voice slammed into her mind unbidden, 'SpitYouOutEatYouAgainWearYourSkinCutYourEyesPutThemBackIn' then the horde poured out of the brick structure.

Dretches. Hundreds of them. Falling over each other, their bloated bodies, spindly limbs, distended humanoid shape, and slavering maws blending together into a massive writhing carpet of Abyssal flesh. An unnatural tide flowed across the slime on the floor, cresting into a massive wave that reached to the ceiling, breaking towards the stunned wizard. As the nearest reached out to slash her, Bliks let her skin harden, forming a shell impenetrable by the mass, yet they grabbed her firmly and dragged her down like a leaf caught in a whirlpool. Finding her garments as hard to rend as its wearer, she could feel them pressing down on her, threatening to crush her with their disgusting weight.

These, the lowliest of demons, shared their kin's invulnerability to electricity and had a significant tolerance to acid. But the caustic explosion that spread from Bliks was unlike that to which they were resistant and their bodies burnt and melted under its spray. The spatter struck even the door, corroding the ladder beyond use, and almost reaching the ceiling.

The liquefied remains pooled around Bliks and she added to their volume with her vomit.

Focusing, she cast a quick Prestidigitation, cleaning the filth from her skin and clothes as she rose above the thickening slime. 'That would have been an unwelcome surprise.' She thought the back of her throat still stinging.

'No no no, we can't have that, now can we,' the subtle voice whispered into her mind, 'They were my friends, yes they were. And now they're not.'

Bliks looked around, trying to find the source of the telepathy but could not see anything. Then panic struck her but she fought back the magically induced emotion, yet still feeling it gnaw at her resolve.

'You're not too big are you, not so interesting,' the voice almost sounded regretful, 'But you're different, and different is good enough.'

Through gritted teeth, Bliks drew out the syllables and cast True Seeing, panning her eyes across the chamber, but her view did not change, the voice's source was not revealed.

'Shall we play first? Everyone likes to play. What is it you want to play with? Worms? Is that your favourite?'

Out of the viscera of the dretches, a ringed tube stretched itself clear, entrails and slime dripping off of its body. It was unnaturally large, a sickly brown and yellow, and was quickly joined by half a dozen just like it. But she saw through the illusion for what it was, and they faded suddenly.

'Not fair, you don't want to play! We'll just have to TAKE you and MAKE you play.'

Never having been on the end of a possession, she found the experience to be unique. It was like she was pushed backwards, away from her eyes, away from her hands, her feet, but also pushed away from her back. Every sense retreated, sounds became dim, light started to flicker out, and it felt, for a moment like she was suspended in air, naked, but with no familiar body to hold her in. She was grand in that emptiness, filling its vast space, but trapped, hearing the faint laughter of her assailant in her own voice.

Then she was back, suddenly, harshly, like being thrown from a horse or running headlong into a wall. Her head ached but she strained her eyes open, seeing a bat winged cloud scream as it flew out of the chamber with a harsh scream.

"Bath'tanath, what do you MEAN she resisted you?" Hosilla pressed her point home as she lanced one of its wings with a cold iron stiletto. The creature squirmed in pain, held there only by Uziel's semi-incorporeal shackles.

The faintly demonic human yanked on the chain, "The lady asked you a question, whelp!" Uziel growled.

"No whelp you shell!" the shadow demon spat back, "I'm sure you will see soon."

"Pathetic." The tall tiefling grumbled, letting the demon retreat slightly as he gave the shackles some slack.

They stood in the ruins of their former spies sleeping chamber, the body of blue skinned Wenduag against one wall and more of her kind scorched and dead amongst the wreckage. 'That witch even killed Snap.' Uziel thought to himself of his former pet lizard. 'Still … might make good eating.'

Hosilla yanked her blade free, holstering it and then said, "so she comes in here, kills my minions, melts your wretched buddies, and then gets away from you. Is that your failure you want me to tell Vorlesh when she comes?"

"Pathetic mortal, my failure?" The demon strained again at the shackles, "Vorlesh will see YOUR failure!"

'Vorlesh is it?' the voice whispered in Hosilla's ear. The cultist waved to Uziel to stop toying with the demon.

"She's here," she whispered to her compatriots adding, "redeem yourself demon," as she uncoupled the shackles. In a laughing puff of smoke, the creature vanished, teleported away. Hosilla spat a curse in Abyssal.

The voice whispered again, 'That wouldn't be Areelu Vorlesh, would it? The woman who supposedly opened the Worldwound in the first place?'

"Come out wizard and I can tell you the whole tale," Hosilla replied, directing Uziel to search the room; it was clearly a simple Message spell so she must be close. Her demon blooded bodyguard strode through the room, swinging his blade, searching for the likely invisible mage.

'I'm surprised she's not dead yet, that was over a hundred years ago.'

"The faithful of Deskari are well rewarded!"

'And yet you lower yourself to working with them. Are the Templars not strong enough on your own?'

"When the hordes of the Abyss swallow this world, I shall watch your soul contort and dance until I feast upon it myself!"

'I suspect my rewards will lie elsewhere.'

"Oh, did the demon tell you? There's something wrong with you, mage. It had you in its clutches, but then it said it got pushed out, like there wasn't enough room in you. You'll not be going to whatever rewards you dream of, you'll scream like the rest of the rabble."

Uziel had finished clearing the room and so stepped into the trophy hall to continue his search. She didn't have to see him to know the effects of the thin green ray that lanced across the open doorway, turning her lover into a fine ash. Two untrustworthy allies gone, the cultist screamed in frustration.

'So is it Areelu Vorlesh?' she heard the whisper again, but this time both in her ear, and from the centre of the room. She called out the incantation to purge the room of invisibility and the sylph mage Bliks popped into view, floating a couple of inches off the ground.

Bliks only had enough time to raise her hands defensively before the glaive sliced through the air, cutting her in two, but leaving her unharmed. Spinning in place, Hosilla had enough time to see the illusion mimic Bliks' incantations as she stood in the guard post beyond. Then the wizard spread her arms, balling her fists and then brought them together.

It had been an interesting calculation when she had done it, several months ago. Two spheres of rock, over a dozen feet in radius, hurtling together. How much did they weigh? The result of several thousand tons amazed her.

After the shattering crash, Bliks saw that the room had been filled with crushed rock, which did not suit her purposes. Again she conjured up the spell she had used earlier, changing the mass into dripping mud that seeped into all of the surrounding corridors. She followed its main movement as it slopped down a hole in what appeared to be a kitchen. Briefly surrounding herself in a gale of wind, she held the mud back like a plug before coming clear of the hole and drifting past another now abandoned guard post. The next room had the air of some importance, with coal lit braziers hanging from the walls and a well wrought stone table standing in the centre.

Two more rooms led off of this apparent dining chamber, and while the one seemed to be some kind of abattoir, with corpses of people mixed in with bits of rats, fish heads, and insect carapaces, the other was a relatively neat bedroom. Along the walls hung a variety of weapons, but of more interest was a lockbox that she rescued from the thickening layer of mud. This she slid, unopened, into her backpack before the bed was itself swallowed. She then proceeded to cast her usual set of detection spells, searching the space above the rising muck for anything valuable, swinging back through room after room.

'For Templars they were woefully under equipped,' she thought, cataloguing the meagre supply of wands, potions, and scrolls. Even their leader had only high quality not magical equipment on her, but she did have a key and a note. After cleaning it of blood and mud it read:

"Hosilla, You will remain, for the time being, in Kenabres, but know this: the city's days are numbered. Seek a place of safety-the underground den of your mongrel lackeys should suffice to keep you safe from the devestation to come. I shall assume command of Drezen shortly, and once Vorlesh has finished with the wardstone and Kenabres is no longer of interest to us, you are to return to my side. Excellent news regarding the salvage of Yaniel's sword from the museum as well-bring it with you, for I believe this weapon could be quite useful, once we corrupt it. Before you leave for Drezen, stop by the three safe houses (Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod-the passphrase remains'I've new material for the archives' for now) to ensure no evidence remains behind. May Lord Deskari and Lord Baphomet watch over you! S. V."

'Too bad they seem to be working together,' she thought glumly, recalling her conversation with Hex and Eryno earlier, 'but it still would be useful to see if we can turn them against one another. And S.V.', she paused to wrack her memory, 'S.V … Irabeth mentioned a Stauton Vhane. It's unlikely but could be the same person. And what's this about Yaneil's sword?'

Suddenly in shock, she flew as fast as she could, up the now cleared hole and back down the passage towards Neathholm until she had passed the mud's spread. Throwing down her backpack, she hauled out the lockbox, its corner straining against the mouth of the dimensional storage space. The key fit. Inside was a pouch which, shaken, suggested gems, but what caught her eye was a long darkwood case that barely fit diagonally. This she tentatively opened and then rocked back on the ground.

The pommel was a gold cap, embossed with sigils of both good deities and empyrean lords, with a comfortable grip of untanned red hide wrapped in cold iron. The crossguard was an elaborate swirl of mithril, but it was the blade itself that cemented its name. Glittering even in this darkness she could see its gold sheen, the finely sharpened blade of the assassinated crusader paladin Yaniel, Radiance. 'How many demons fell to this blade', she wondered, refusing the urge to even touch it, 'and yet it almost fell under their influence. The crusade has fallen far.'

Standing, she left the lock box behind, its contents more easily fitting into her satchel. It was a quick trip back to Neathholm, which she chose to walk until she reached the lake which she floated across. Bliks was pleased when Sull seemed surprised at her return.

"Lesh than an hour, only gone an hour!" the overweight chieftain exclaimed, "Are they truly gone, the traitorsh and the cultish?"

Nodding Bliks replied, "The place is a mess, but your path is clear to the surface. Looks like you'll be coming out into the sewers, but I'd wait until the crusaders have accepted your offer before making the journey." She then thought of the mess in the cistern, "In fact, it might be in everyone's best interests to wait a few days."

"Of courshe, of courshe. Now I shpoke with Opoli, our seer, and he shays he thinksh he knowsh where your friendsh might be. Here, let me show you." He punctuated that last remark with a grand wave of his hand towards an unfurled chart on his kitchen table. It appeared to have been skinned from the hide of some fish creature, as the markings on it dribbled off into scale shaped impressions. A detailed map of the local tunnels, marked boldly in ink, seemed to confirm Bliks' earlier compass orientation, but on the fringes, areas were drawn in frequently scuffed charcoal markings. In one of these areas, somewhere to the north east, was a small symbol.

"Shaid it wash a shrine he shaid," Sull explained, pointing a fat finger to the symbol, "something like oursh. But with theshe tremoursh many tunnelsh have collapshed." He then pulled back from the table, turning to the door, "I'll have a guide take you."

Bliks passed a hand over the map, stretching and closing her fingers. "That won't be necessary, I can find my way. I'd rather not delay. The demons and their servants are on the move."


	10. Winding paths

In idle hours Kokoz had tried to imagine what it was like to travel by ship. He had settled his mind on something further afield than the Lake of Mists and Veils or even Lake Encarthan to the south and after talking with his tribe's elder, she had suggested the Steaming Sea around the Ironbound Archipelago. While the Ulfen locals might not take too well for a Kellid like himself travelling in their waters, it was only a mind exercise, something he never thought he'd actually have any reason to do.

So when the giant beast he was riding in headed off, it had a little sway to it that reminded of his imaginary trip. The Black Sovereign's Witch had warned them that they might find it disconcerting, but his fellow tribesmen had mocked her warning once she had left. "Only a weak city dweller would be sickened by a little rocking!" "Does she think us babes, who retch at any discomfort?"

They had volunteered to be a part of this new military the Wtich had created, a new tribe she called the Heilige Cohort; their priest of Gorum had said that it meant 'Saint's assistants' in some foreign tongue. He hadn't cared what it meant if he'd be doing something more than continuing the age old tribal feuds. When one of them asked what lands this tribe would have, she shook her head, "this isn't a tribe like you're used to. Your lands will be all the lands of Numeria but none of them. You will all stand guard against all, be they enemies from across our borders or within them."

Another asked how they would be remembered, as they ancestors were given sacred earth to rest in. "If you fall in the line of duty, your body can return to your tribe or we can bury you in a new barrow we are building outside of Starfall. As we are two people, it will be close to the city but not of the city."

An unexpected jolt brought him back to the present, as the calm feminine voice of the beast spoke through small pitted plates beside each of their stations, "I apologize for the disturbance. We are not under attack. Please remain in your seats." The station in which he sat reminded him of the work some of the non-migratory members of his tribe had crafted out of clay. It was like a slightly reclined chair had been pushed up through the skymetal floor, so that it draped over the chair like a rigid cloth, with a tough but giving cushion of some sort covering it. To the side was a small platform that had both the chair controls and the speaker disk. At a command, the chair could melt into the deck or it could recline into a kind of articulated bed. His personal belongings were stowed in a locker on the edge of the room alongside where their weapons were kept.

This hadn't been the first time they had ridden in one of these skymetal beasts. As part of their training they had been on short forays across Sovereign's Reach and once crossed into the Felldales, but had always returned to Starfall before sunset and never rode for more than an hour at a stretch. It was now pressing into two and his immediate superior, he was supposed to call her a sergeant but could only imagine her as a sub-chieftain, had said they'd be travelling for another four. Before he had joined the Heilige Cohort this would have been intolerable, to march until after sunset before setting camp was to invite bad luck, either in finding a bad site, stumbling in the dark, or getting separated. Now he knew some of the smaller metal beasts would travel ahead of their column and have their camp setup by the time he and his fellows disembarked.

"Could privates Banesk, Joram, and Nolesk please report to deck one for a briefing. That's privates Banesk, Joram, and Nolesk to desk one," the feminine voice said throughout the beast's interior. Kokoz's station was right beside the narrow stairs on the second of three decks and so he was about to ask Joram, a former tribesman of his, what it was all about, until he saw the man. Joram's skin was pale and sweat was beading across his rough forehead, while his breathing seemed to be short and fast. He had been well, hale and jovial before they had left, so Kokoz instinctively recoiled to avoid whatever was plaguing his comrade. The other two men descended the ladder like stairs looking just as Joram did, which made Kokoz wonder if it was healthy to travel in these beasts until he heard a metallic voice, just on the edge of his hearing, from the deck below.

"You will be fine. Lie down on the beds. You will be fine. Close your eyes. You will be fine. The cushion will hold your head still. You will be fine. Try to sleep. You will be fine. If you feel like vomiting, please take the pill on your side table. You will be fine." To Kokoz's ears it sounded just like the medicine robot that had inspected them as they boarded the beast, always repeating itself. He fixed his eyes on the low ceiling above him. Had they succumbed to the beast's rocking movement? If men like them could suffer, men he knew to be proud, fearless, and dependable, perhaps the Witch's warning had not been misplaced.

His thoughts were once again interrupted by a voice from the pitted plate, but this time it was the chieftain, or as he tried to correct himself, lieutenant colonel, Danug, "Attention brothers, sisters. We have just received orders that we are to march with all haste to meet up with the Black Sovereign. I am giving permission for you to leave your stations by squad. In eight hours lights out and all quiet. For Numeria."

"For Numeria," the men and women of the Heilige Cohort responded throughout the convoy. It was a level statement, not one filled with the bravado of foreigners or the joy of some religious followers. It just was. Each of the Kellids knew their duty as well as a professional, for after they had scrabbled and scraped to survive there was no place for the distractions of exuberance.

As corporal Kokoz was left to wonder what change of events had led to this order, the collosal bulk of the VAU-4-UN Super Heavy Transport robot accelerated, its massive insectile legs lengthening their stride. Before it was the Annihilator robot XAU-4-UN-7, spearheading the formation. A dozen bulbous beetles being led and followed by a pair of scorpions, while flies swarmed overhead, except that these insects were all a uniform dull grey and towered over the local scrublands.

Blik's journey through the tunnels outside Neathholm took her initially in a southerly direction before the quiet hallways opened into another roughly circular cavern. 'The geology here is surprising. Perhaps these are bubbles of some sort? Remnants of some previous volcanic activity?' she thought as she noted the signs of a recent scuffle. Only one body remained, a green mass of plant matter, with tendrils for multiple legs and arms, topped by a pore covered bowl. The basidirond was long dead, but Bliks still swung clear of its body, wary of its hallucinatory spores.

From here she took the north westerly passage as Sull's map had indicated, finding a hastily erected rope bridge bridging a chasm a few minutes further along. Not wanting to test its quality, she floated over the narrow gap and just then came another tunnel change, this time cutting out from the previous tunnel to the north east. A few minutes in the walls grew damp and stalactites hung from the ceiling; their corresponding stalagmites were broken off at the base. Passing through this anomaly Bliks could hear voices ahead in the tunnel around the bend.

"Careful Dyra, careful. I think that one holds up this one."

Something mumbled in response.

"I'm sorry, I'm just being cautious. Crel. Crel! How're you holding out?"

Floating to the top of the tunnel, Bliks edged forward until she could see it expand into a larger conical chamber, its ceiling held up by a perimeter of natural columns. At its centre was the remnant of a crudely constructed tower, now barely more than a story high, its remaining floors strewn to the edge of the cavern. Beside the rubble were several figures, two who seemed to be carefully picking away at the shattered rocks, the rest looking keenly into the darkness. Their shared mismatching features marked them as mongrelmen.

Noting the similarity between the weapons Drago had shown her and what these guards carried, Bliks drifted to the floor and called out, "Friends! I come recently from Neathholm. Is there any way I can render aid? The tremors did this?"

The guards stiffened as they locked their differing eyes on Bliks. One of the two working at the pile of debris stood and stepped forward. "Who is it that says they are a friend of Neathholm?" he asked, his face a mix of scaled skin, elven eyes, a goat's horn and a bat's ear.

"My name is Bliksemani, and I come in great haste. Your chieftain, Sull, provided me with a map of these tunnels while your priest, Paesonius, provided me with his blessing."

At the mention of the priest, the guards seemed to relax as their speaker rasped, "Well met, Bliksemani, my name is Lann, but I must ask your leave, as you can see, misfortune has befallen us." Lann replied, turning back to the remains of the tower.

As she walked forward, the guards resolutely barred her path, but she was close enough to see that the debris had been cleared in one area, leaving only a massive slab. Several large snapped bones nearby seem to have failed in levering the slab out of the way, prompting Bliks to ask, "Is this Crel trapped under that slab? In the tower's basement?"

Lann seemed surprised at hearing Crel's name, but then quickly nodded, "Dyra and I weren't here when the tremors collapsed the tower, but thank Benorus, Crel was down there when it did. You asked if you could render aid … perhaps you can help." One of the guards looked to the authoritative Lann who smiled and waved Bliks forward. Seeing the slab up close she did some estimates of its size and set her pack down. When she opened it to retrieve the laser torch, the pack had magically shifted it to the top of its dimensional pocket, so she snatched it up and checked its charge level.

"May I?" Bliks asked, as she rose, addressing Dyra and resting a hand on the mongrelwoman's shoulder. The woman turned to face Bliks and revealed why her voice was an incomprehensible mumbling; unlike other mongrelmen, her parts had fought with one another, leaving her mouth swollen and distended by tumours and scars. Still she gurgled something at Bliks, who nodded incomprehensibly, then stepped out of the wizard's way. "You may want to shield your eyes," she added as she fired up the cutting tool.

Its initial setting was merely a guide beam, harmlessly marking where it was focused. She adjusted it so that its focus would automatically shift as it cut through the rock, then held it up to the slab and started cutting. Seeing the slow progress after only a few minutes, Lann asked, "Your tool is truly remarkable, but our friend remains in peril and we must hurry to free him."

Bliks shut the torch off and looked at Lann, silvery eyes meeting out of place elven ones. "I'm almost done. I don't intend to cut the whole thing, just enough to reach inside." She said then flicked the torch back on and continued cutting a hole into the rock. Lann's pacing behind her didn't disturb her as much as the unnatural glare reduction effect her cybernetic eyes did. The flare from the laser created a kind of halo, confusingly interpreted by her mind as being both bright and dark. But the work finished quickly and using a pair of powered grippers, she pulled the oval shaped core free. "Crel? Crel! My name is Bliksemani and I'm reaching my hand through the slab above you. Please reach out to me if you can."

For some, the idea of blindly thrusting their hands into a dark hole was the thing of nightmares, but Bliks' nightmares took a far more visceral form so this fear did not hold her back. Reaching first down to her elbow, she twisted her arm slightly and plunged it all the way down to her shoulder, her arm flailing in the unseen space below the slab. When she brushed a rough carapace, she grasped back at it, finding her palm being softly squeezed between what felt like a pincer. "Crel, hang on, I'm going to get you out of there." She said before whispering the completion phrase for Dimension Door, vanishing from the top of the slab and reappearing a few feet back, her arm now to one side and the crab hobgoblin hybrid Crel lying beside her.

Dyra clapped as Lann gave out a rasping cheer. Crel nodded his feral head at Bliks and then rolled onto his back passing out. Helping her to her feet, Lann clapped Bliks on the back, "At least some of you uplanders aren't half bad. Where did you get that magic item? We could make great use of such a thing in Neathholm."

"Alas I do not have any to spare, and it relies upon a source of power that you would not be able to replenish." Bliks said apologetically, "and it is not magic, just focused light, like how a lens …" she trailed off. Never having seen the sun or having the ability to make precision glass, her example would have been lost on the mongrelman. "Sull spoke of wanting to reconnect with the upland of Mendev. If things go well, I should be able to help your people in many ways."

"He did?" Lann said after a pause, "uplanders have usually been trouble. Why would he want to risk our purity by helping them?"

Bliks gestured around the cavern. "The tremors you felt weren't natural. Demons attacked the upland city of Kenabres and Sull wishes your people to rejoin the Crusade."

When Lann smiled, his teeth were little more than hard ridges on his gums, giving Bliks a sense that he must find tough food difficult to eat. "Do you hear friends? Our chieftain again honours our ancestors! We will lay the demons low like they did. These are the days we were born for." Lann said, rousing his compatriots in a mixed guttural shout. His expression suddenly changed from exaltation to concern as he looked back at Bliks, "forgive me, you said you were in great haste. What drives you?"

"I am looking for some lost uplanders in a shrine somewhere to the north east of here." Bliks replied, glancing around at the various exits from the chamber. "Sull's map wasn't very clear beyond this point."

Nodding in understanding, Lann said, "yes, this guard post is … was at the northern most edge of Neathholm's territory, but I think I know of the place you seek. There is no direct path, but the shortest path is first to the south east, through the Hall of Ancestors, then north. It should take you a little over half an hour to walk." He looked to the unconscious Crel, then to his companions, "I will show you the way." Raising a hand to interrupt Bliks' objection he continued, "while the path should be clear, I cannot have your aid go unanswered."

Bliks considered the time she might lose in trying to ferry the mongrelman across future chasms or how to coordinate fighting with someone she just met, but then thought that there was no way of stopping him from following her without force. "Alright, but I will lead. If there are any demons loose in these tunnels your weapons will not suffice."

The pair left the chamber as the remaining mongrelmen were fashioning a stretcher, Bliks once again lifting barely off the ground to float while appearing to walk along the tunnel. While the overall direction was south easterly, the path they took wound almost back upon itself in several places.

"So you say that the demons have returned?" Lann interrupted the silence.

Bliks looked back over her shoulder giving him a weary smile, "I think you misunderstood me, they never left, these tremors are just their most recent attack. While your ancestors drove them back, less than a decade later the demons struck back, pushing us out of the upland of Sarkoris entirely. Do you know of the upland West Sellen River?"

"It lies nearly above us, does it not?"

"Yes. Somewhat to the west. The fiends advance was only stopped by a great magical barrier formed by a series of artefacts called Wardstones. One of them was in the upland city of Kenabres."

Lann was silent for another minute as they travelled but then spoke again, "You say was?"

"Yes, this seems to be the reason for their attack, destroying the Kenabres Wardstone. I'm sorry, but I don't know more, I only arrived in Kenabres earlier today."

"I see. Ah, here we are!" Lann said, raising his voice excitedly, "the Hall of Ancestors! Just down this shaft."

Ahead of them the tunnel was interrupted by a sharp downturn. Looking over the lip, Bliks could see the bottom, dozens of yards away. And then she saw a faint flicker of orange.

"Would any of your people have come this way?" Bliks said in a now hushed voice.

Lann looked at her slightly surprised. "Ours was the closest guard post and we saw none go in this direction."

"I'll be right back," Bliks said before she stepped over the lip to Lann's astonished cry. Swiftly falling down the shaft she slowing her descent at the bottom until she once again floated above the stone floor. The orange flicker was unmistakable now 'a campfire', she thought, 'could they have moved from the shrine?" Silently drifting around the corner, she saw a solitary sitting figure facing away from her. Enough of his profile showed solid dwarven features, rose red beard and unkempt hair.

"Master Dwarf!" Bliks called out as she approached, holding her hands low and wide.

"Gog'thath! I have not sent for you." The dwarf replied gruffly, then jerked his head around, "You … crusader! You will not have my secrets!"

As he stood he turned, revealing his hands twisting in incantation to match an arcane phrase, just enough for Bliks to shield her eyes as the air around her became chocked with smoke and fire. "You have no authority over me! I will study what I will, including your death!" she could hear the dwarf shout above the roar of the flames.

While her cloak's magic had protected her from breathing in the burning embers, she could still feel the sharp pain of seared flesh. Her eyes still closed she blindly reached into her component pouch for the slick metallic fibres while her other hand grabbed the first sphere she could find in her larger belt pouch. "I brook no time for your insanity, diabolist!" she shouted back, finishing her spell and suddenly feeling constrained and queasy.

An Antimagic Field was something she had first experienced near the end of her training. While the other candidates had not expressed even noticing that they had entered one, she immediately felt different. The ever present breeze stopped. Her hair fell, no longer lofted. The world got loud. The spell had cut her off from her heritage, even if only for a few minutes.

She had since cast it only in practise, having faced the casters of the Technic League with the strength of arms of her companions. But it never felt right. It was an aberration on reality. A void that pushed down without weight.

Nonetheless it cleared the Incendiary Cloud and she resolutely strode towards where she had last heard the dwarf yell at her. Dispelling the cloud as she passed through it, she took a quick survey of the battleground; another roughly circular chamber several dozen feet across with two exits opposite one another.

"You'll have time for what I say you have time for!" the dwarf screamed, spittle streaming from his mouth. He made the gestures and said the words needed to complete a Mass Hold Person and then blinked when nothing happened. Bliks tiredly shook her head, primed the grenade, and threw it behind the stammering caster.

The blast threw him through the air, smashing into his grubby camp, sending his supplies across the floor. Scrambling to his feet, he snatched his crossbow from his back, turning it towards Bliks. She ran towards the dwarf, a hastily aimed bolt tearing through her robes. As she passed him, she drew a thin silvery hued blade, a chill air dripping down its blade. Under normal conditions his Mage Armour would have protected him from the siccatite dirk, but years of reflexes accustomed to that spell's deflective qualities left the blade between his ribs.

Behind her she heard a scuffling thud followed quickly by Lann running into the chamber, drawing a pair of flint knives. The dwarf staggered back, clutching at the blade that continued to sap heat from his chest.

Grabbing another grenade, Bliks thumbed off the safety and shouted, "back!" causing Lann to skid to a halt. This one she rolled to the dwarf's feet as she put distance between the two of them. When it detonated, there was a snap in the air, like a breaking twig, and a momentary purple glow. The diabolist collapsed in a heap.

With a thought she dismissed the Antimagic Field, and she could once again feel the air brush around her, a slightly painful relief against her burnt skin. Focusing her thoughts, the nanites in her blood reported a mild burn over all exposed skin; she set them to begin mending the damage.

"Was this who you sought?" he said, panting slightly from the hurried climb. Bliks looked at the still dwarf, shaking her head. Lann sheathed his knives and then pulled a small sack from his belt pouch. "You've been burned, let me …"

"Is that …" Bliks squinted, "a gland from an ant?"

"Yes! The seer Opoli harvests them for a healing salve. Please let me …"

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine."

Lann looked at her doubtfully but put the ant gland back in his pouch. "This may sound unusual to an uplander, but may we, Neathholm, have the body?" Lann asked, gesturing towards the dwarf. He then looked sharply at Bliks, "we're not cannibals! We would use it to feed our farms."

"He's not dead. Not yet at least." Bliks replied, pulling another cream coloured Soft grenade from her satchel to replace the one she had just used. "He'll be out for a while, but he seems to have been on the run from the Crusade … he might have some useful information. If nothing else, he'll see justice. Could you help me strip him?"

They deprived the dwarf of his grimy outer garments leaving his dignity intact. Bliks carefully examined his equipment alongside his supplies, separating out the magically valuable from the mundane. Even with the minor damage her initial Concussion grenade had caused, Lann happily gathered up the supplies that did not interest Bliks. "Upland articles are not common, they will be a gift of prestige."

First seeing to the wound her dagger had inflicted, she pulled one of the Androffan trauma packs from her pack, selecting a medium sized patch that, once placed against his bare skin, seemed to melt, forming a clear bandage without visible edges. Then to secure him, Bliks produced a small roll of what appeared to be red fabric. She wrapped the Ion Tape around the dwarves limbs and then across his face to both blind and gag him. "This will hold him?" Lann asked, easily tearing a wasted scrap.

Bliks smiled, producing a stubby metallic wand with a minute pair of prongs at one end. She pushed it into one of the strips then pressed a stud on one side. With a snap the fabric stiffened and contracted, looking more like leather. "Stronger than iron now."

With a jerk, Lann tried pulling the material apart and matched Bliks' smile with satisfaction. "Is this another magic item that isn't magic? That egg you threw at him looked like no alchemical weapon I've ever seen."

"Yes it is. Again, I'm sorry I have none to spare."

"Long have we learned to live without the wonders available upland, but I suspect there are wonders Benorus gives only to us that you would marvel at."

They dragged the dwarf between them on a simple travois made from Lann's bone spears and the dwarf's bedroll. Bliks tried to remember to construct a wand of Greater Floating Disk to help with mundane tasks like this. Once they exited the chamber where the dwarf had camped, Lann spoke with obvious pride, "the Hall of Ancestors!" Bliks looked around the room, noting the statues carved into the rough rock face, each appearing to wear a full suit of armour and holding a variety of weapons. "Paesonius has said that they are more than just carvings, but tombs, where Benorus accepted them into the earth. Few of us venture this far from Neathholm, but we do so occasionally in pilgrimage."

The path north from the Hall of Ancestors was thankfully wide enough for their burden, but Bliks could sense a slight downwards slope aiding them. There were only a few turns and Lann remarked at a collapsed passage to one side of the main tunnel.

"Just ahead," Lann said after they navigated another sharp turn in the tunnel. Bliks waved for them to put the travois down and then for Lann to wait as she floated silently away. The first sign of something unusual was the ceiling receding from the floor and then a great carving on the approaching wall of a junction. With a smile she quickly recognized that carving as a rough depiction of Torag's great hammer, its head resting on the ground with its grip rising vertically like a pillar at the intersection. Not surprisingly, integrated into the design of the hammer's head was a thin opening in the stone, low to the ground; a slit for a dwarven crossbowman. To the left of the end of the hammer's head was a passage leading behind the carving.

As she approached, Bliks saw that the design she had seen face on had been mirrored on the wall of the tunnel to her right, with matching passage and crossbow slit. Together, seen from a point opposite the junction, it was a proper depiction of Torag's holy symbol, and defenders could cover both passageways as well as having covered exits to sally forth from. The passage on the left seemed to be less precise than that on the right, 'possibly a natural channel that inspired the overall design' she thought.

"You're out of your element, my floating friend!" a cheerful voice called out to her from behind. Spinning to find the source, she was met with a barely visible shape stepping out of the rock. "Although floating isn't something I should be too critical of, considering," the translucent dwarven figure continued, his ghostly feet uselessly scraping the floor.

"Now don't get your hair in a twister! Name's Hebumir Broadforge," the ghost said with a bow, "and I hope your apparent appreciation of my work is genuine."

"Master Dwarf?" Bliks said cautiously. Her experience with the undead, ghosts and haunts in particular, had been mixed, from the crusader reliving his suicide at Aldronard's Grave to the vengeful first Black Sovereign under the Palace of Fallen Stars.

"Heh, can't say that I'm either much anymore. Still, I can see one blessed by Torag, even if you're not one of the faithful," the dwarf replied, pulling at his immaterial beard, "so at least I don't have to treat you like some of my other … guests," he punctuated that remark by a nod down the tunnel that connected with the one Bliks had been on. Peering around the corner she saw the remains of two giant flies, killed fighting one another from what she could guess, their bodies just within her darkvision.

"A point of advice, my arcane friend, if you don't have to, don't possess vermin. Once you get over a certain number of eyes and legs, things get a bit … confusing. So, who are you my aerial ally? What brings an 'uplander' to Torag's humble shrine?" Bliks couldn't miss the obvious sarcasm Hebumir had used with the word uplander.

"In reverse order, I'm seeking the wife of an ally in Kenabres, and my name is Bliksemani Volgeling. You are … a rather unusual spirit. Most I've encountered are mad, frothing creatures, fixated on their death."

"Well my dear, that's a bit of a story. Shortly it's that when I finished this place, there was no one to guard it. Couldn't have that. But I was old and tired and couldn't find any of my folk so I offered to protect it myself. Torag agreed and so, here, relatively, I am," he replied, clapping his hands together, "and so are some others, perhaps the one you seek is amongst them? Follow me!"

Bliks hadn't seen another creature do the same kind of walking floating motion that she routinely did and remarked that it was a bit unusual as the swinging of the legs didn't match the movement of the body; it was like the ghost was skating or slipping across a slick surface, as each foot did not stay in place but were instead dragged along. She shrugged after considering this sight and then followed the ghostly dwarf through one of the sally ports.

Almost immediately she was forced to crouch down. As was typical of dwarven defensive construction, the ceilings were remarkably shallow, barely over four and a half feet high. A single dwarf could hold or block each passage relying on a heavy shield and spear to keep enemies at bay; there were even matching notches in the floor and ceiling to lock shield walls into. Beyond this singular tunnel a red light glowed.

"Archer! I have a guest, please don't shoot her."

The chamber they entered was roughly circular, but carved to be that way unlike the natural ones Bliks had seen earlier. At its centre was a small forge, the source of the red glow, flanked by two anvils and surrounded by benches. Torag was a more popular faith than Brigh, leading to a greater need for places for followers unskilled in smithing to have somewhere to sit during services, but the shrine was clearly a smithy first and a place for prayer second.

Facing the door was a battered woman cradling a shortbow with an arrow notched. She looked through the ghost of the dead priest at Bliks, her eyes suddenly starting to tear up.

"Who is it Anevia?" an elf in a patchwork furred vest leaning an ornate staff asked to the air, blank sockets where there had been eyes paralleling a magically healed scar across much of his upper face.

"Let me introduce lady Volegling," the dwarf said with a touch of panache. "She said she's looking for someone's wife, and I can only presume that means she's looking for you."

Anevia let the bow drop from her hands as she shakily rose to her feet and hobbled over to Bliks, one of her legs healed but malformed by a break. She buried her tears in Bliks' robes, mixing in a joyful laugh. As Bliks tried to comfort the brown haired woman, she took in the other survivors. The elf appeared to be attired as a wizard or sage and was overly tall even for his race. Nearby a stocky human lay curled near the forge, a faint snorting interrupting his sleep.

"You're Irabeth's wife I presume?" Bliks said at last, gently peeling the smiling woman away from her.

"Yes, yes! Anevia, and this is Aravshnial, a wizard from Blackwing," Anevia replied, then added in a more hushed tone, "the sleeping man is Horgus Gwerm, a local noble and money lender," then she looked at Bliks with sudden fear, "the Kite! It was destroyed! What has happened in Kenabres?"

"Yes indeed, what has happened in Kenabres? You must take us to the surface. I presume your group has strong, able warriors? Have you fought demons before?" Aravshinial asked, feeling his way towards where the two women stood.

"Why don't you wake your friend and I can tell you all at once?" Bliks offered gesturing towards the sleeping Horgus.

Anevia looked at Bliks for a moment and quietly replied, "Never said he was my friend. A blustering, demanding, shallow man. Didn't say he had any provisions until yesterday … slipped his mind he said. Made sense that Aravshnial thought he was in league with the demons."

"Now do you have warriors or not? And in what are you particularly talented, Ms Volegging" the elf cut in again, the pace of his words now carrying an edge of impatience.

"It's Volegling, and I know you want answers, but let me get the rest of my group here."

"We've been waiting for rescue for three days. Three days! Surely Prelate Shappok would want to have my expertise in this crisis!"

Anevia stepped away from Bliks a she quickly wove a spell, ending with a peal of thunder, startling the sleeping man awake and sending the elf stumbling back onto a bench. Forcefully she said, "He's dead. As are almost every major figure in Kenabres. The few survivors that we've seen say that the city was attacked by a horde of demons. I have seen its devastation first hand, it is as if the city has been carved up like a cake. The dead still lie in the streets, demons still roam, and there is suspicion and treachery enough to go around without a presumption of authority where none exists."

"Now. I will get you out of here. All of you, but I need to fetch my guide." She sighed, feeling the weight of the day, then trying a more consolatory tone, she added, "I'm sorry for losing my patience, but it has been a long, tiring day, and I am almost out of spells. Aravshinial, I'm sure you can appreciate the stress that makes you feel, almost powerless. And I can see that you've all been through a lot, but the crisis for Kenabres is not yet over. In the coming days we will all need to do what we can do to stop the expansion of the Worldwound, but for the moment I beg your patience." And then she again lifted off the floor and flew back down the confining dwarven passages and out into the tunnel beyond Torag's shrine.

Lann was still standing guard over the bound dwarf and let out a sigh of relief when he realized it was Bliks coming down the corridor. "I heard a great sound but didn't want to leave our prisoner unattended. Is everything alright?" he asked once Bliks came to a stop.

"Yes, just needed to get a wizard to focus on his current situation, nothing to worry about," Bliks replied, adding, "would you be interested in visiting the uplands?"

The mongrelman lifted his side of the travois but cocked his head towards Bliks, "why wouldn't I be? If my tribe is to face the demons again, I will be happy to share our purity with you uplanders." With that decided, they dragged the dwarf to the entrance of the shrine and then were forced to abandon the travois and manhandle him inside.

Standing up after propping the dwarf against the edge of the shrine, Bliks turned to see Anevia and Aravshinial sitting quietly on the benches while Horgus paced behind them, trying to brush the grime off of his fine clothes. When he turned to address Bliks, his voice caught in his throat as a gag, seeing the malformed shape of Lann. He quickly conformed himself and said in a confident tone, "Well, yes. You were saying something about getting us all out of here? I can assure you that once I'm returned to my estate, you will all, both, be well compensated."

Bliks nodded and said, "if you can aid the survivors of Kenabres, that's all I need for compensation. I'm certain the Black Sovereign of Numeria will also appreciate such generosity although it may be hard to tell."

"The Black Sovereign of Numeria you say?" Aravshinial said, standing, "what is his interest in Kenabres?"

"You can ask him yourself, shortly my friend," Bliks replied, resting a hand on the horribly disfigured elf's shoulder, "but for now, I need you all to gather in a circle and hold hands. Lann, please bring the prisoner."

As they stood together, Aravshinial suddenly added, "you're not thinking of trying to Teleport us? You can't seriously be considering trying to bring us all. It's far too dangerous. Take the others and I will stay with this 'diabolist'; you can come back for me when your spells are refreshed."

"Lann, do you have any concerns?" Bliks asked the mongrelman across the circle.

Without hesitation he shook his head, "Fear would be a stain upon our purity, as would foolishness or blindness to risk."

Bliks laughed, gripping Aravshinial's shoulder ever tighter, "I think you have a lot to teach the uplanders when it comes to letting go of fanciful paranoia. Relax, you're in good hands. I've done this at least … once before?"

The elf's cry of dismay was hardly out of his mouth by the time they vanished.


	11. Dreaming under the stars

The quiet of Bliks' room in Defender's Heart was interrupted by the end of Aravshinial's cry as the blinded elf, the hobbled human Avenia, the mongrelman Lann, the overweight Horgus, their comatose dwarven prisoner, and Bliks materialized in the spare spaces. Even then the Teleport shifted a few of their positions, with the dwarf arriving on the bed and Avenia standing on the centrally placed armchair.

Horgus Gwerm was the first to speak. "Defender's Heart?" he said with obvious contempt, "you couldn't have picked a more … reputable establishment?"

"Why don't you," Anevia started, her voice rising in both tone and volume, but she caught Bliks' glance and bit her lip in frustration.

Bowing her head slightly Bliks said, "Lord Gwerm, I'm sure that Master Otai will be delighted to have your patronage in the finest room he can muster."

Horgus barely concealed his look of surprise before nodding thoughtfully, "of course he will. I'm glad that someone knows the proper method of address. I swear, the past few days it's been Horgus this and Horgus that. Horribly familiar." He then turned his head towards the door and began shouting, "usher! USHER!"

One of the many grey clad halfling servants swung into the room on the opening door, coming to a halt when she was confronted by the over packed space. Looking quickly from one face to another, she focused in on Horgus, the scowl matching that of many a guest whose expectations could never be properly met. "Yes mi'lord? How may I be of service?"

"Be prompt, I should not have to call, and show me to your best room, I'm sure Master Otai has set one aside for me."

"But mi'lord, we're all full up and …"

"Excuses? No wonder this place attracts the crowd it does."

"If you'd but give me a moment mi'lord …"

"Yes yes," Horgus replied dismissively then, as he stalked out of the room, he turned to Bliks and added, "I expect that you'll be returning me to my estate promptly tomorrow? Good." Not waiting for a reply he turned into the hall continuing, "what do you have in lamb? Fresh, not smoked mind."

Once his booming voice had faded in with the rest of the murmur of the inn, Anevia turned on Bliks, "why wouldn't you let me give him what for? He's been like that for days, and now, his freedom secured, he somehow manages to take it up a notch!"

Bliks rubbed her forehead, "I have to deal with nobles like him or more often those who aspire to nobility, on a regular basis. Best I've found is to give them a brief amount of attention and then adopt a tin ear. They've been acknowledged, which satiates them for quite some time."

"I can't believe you did it," Aravshinial said, changing the topic away from their former companion, "six. Six people! I've never tried more than three. Do you use the Bloodstone particulars or is it some incantation that Ornelos wrote? I must see your spellbook to compare notes. I'd truly appreciate …" he trailed off then continued in a more sober tone, "if what you said is true and this city has lost its luminaries, then there aren't any left who can cast Regeneration. Years … years …"

Taking the elf's quivering hand, Bliks brought his hand up to her face. "Find my eyes," she said. Wordlessly he passed his fingers across her features, finding her closed eyelids. "Feel my eyes." He jerked his hand away from her face in shock before she gently brought it back. "It's alright."

"You have a glass eye? How is that …"

"Try the other one."

"Both of your eyes are glass?"

"Skymetal."

"I had heard of Numerian artefacts, but … eyes? What happened to you?"

"I don't remember. What I've been able to deduce is the Red Mantis assassin that tried to kill me started by hitting me with something that would blind me, some tailored acid to slip through even direct contact. Melted my eyes and scoured my head of hair. So, if Regeneration is not available, there are alternatives. If you wish. I know several talented surgeons in Numeria who could do the procedure."

"I will …"

Aravnshinial's response was interrupted by a shout of joy from the doorway. In its frame stood the seemingly always armoured Irabeth, her arms wide. Into those arms Anevia limped and they tenderly kissed. Then, over her wife's shoulder, the half orc looked at Bliks saying, "thank you. We … I … had grown worried when you didn't shortly return." She then spied Lann and looked back at Bliks, questioningly.

Without hesitation Lann said, "greetings fellow crusader! I am Lann of Neathholm. I am told my chieftain, Sull, has chosen to share our purity in fighting the demons once again. As for myself, you uplanders would say that I am a 'pitling' or 'tunnel person' …"

"No … no," Irabeth replied, shaking her head, "you are the Descendants of the First. We were taught that there had been survivors of a purge of demonic taint who retreated underground … a misguided purge … but all had thought they could not have survived, let alone sired children."

Lann smiled his reptilian nubby gum smile, his elven eyes shining, "we honour our ancestors, those who fought in the Last Crusade, who Benorus accepted into his embrace."

Irabeth's eyes widened, "Benorus … the Angel of Lightless Chambers? One of the Empyreal Lords?"

"I had not thought the Glimmer in the Dark would be known here in the upland! How is it …"

Bliks interrupted the two, "Friends, I am sure you have much to share and discuss, but I am tried. It has been a long day and I need rest if I am to be of any use on the morrow." She shook her head as if that would help clear her thoughts, "and so, may I have my room again? This dwarf may be of some interest to you … I believe he's a diabolist on the run from the Crusade. Would you take him with you?"

"Of course, Bliksemani. As I remain indebted for your aid with Crel, I will bear this villain away."

Anevia pulled away from her wife and said, "Irabeth, dear, I need to help Aravnshinial. I have been his eyes since the Kite fell."

"I'm sure we can find someone else to guide me now that …" the elf began, but stopped when he felt Anevia at his side again, holding his elbow securely. "I wouldn't want to ruin your reunion."

"We all are here to aid one another, friend Aravnshinial," Irabeth soothed. "But I agree, my wife is perhaps … too short … for your stature."

The brown haired woman gave the half orc a mock gasp, "Why I … my height has never been a issue before, beloved. Your tusks, on the other hand …"

Bliks rested her head on her chest and again rubbed her forehead. Seeing her discomfort, Irabeth gave her wife a knowing nod who quieted. "We'll leave you to your rest, Bliks. May you sleep well … as you suspect, there is much yet that Kenabres has to ask of us."

After the others left, Bliks laid down on the bed, too tired to even change out of her adventuring gear. Staring up at the ceiling she sent to Hex, 'I'm back, no need to come hunting for me in the morning.'

'Acknowledged,' was his only response she perceived before she drifted off to sleep.

Barely a moment after she closed them, Bliks' eyes reopened and she sat up. She looked around the room quickly then stood, her back straight, her face free from its previous appearance of fatigue. Stretching her arms behind her, she started and the paused to feel her shoulder blades. Her brow furrowed and she brought a hand to her face, giving herself a sudden slap which made her eyes widen.

Walking over to the desk, she sat down and opened one of its drawers, looked inside, and then closed it. Looking around the room again, she went to her satchel and opened it, finding a silver mirror sitting on top. Smiling she took the mirror and inspected herself in it. Tilting it this way and that, she got a good look at her face, opened her mouth, looked up her nose, bared her teeth, and then brought the mirror up to her forehead to get a better angle on her metallic hair which she ran a hand through. Putting down the mirror she then stretched her arms out in front of her, turning them over to look at her palms, and then craning her neck to look at her shoulders. Rolling up her sleeves, she felt and looked at the muscles and bones in her arms. Then she picked a piece of stray thread off of one shoulder and stood on one leg as she kicked the other out in front of her. Nimbly she turned her foot this way and that, hiking up her robes to look at the pants underneath. Repeating this for her other leg, she nodded and took the pack back to the bed, reaching in and pulling items out one by one.

Soon the bed was littered with wands, books, camping supplies, trail rations, Androffan energy weapons, charged and discharged silverdisk batteries, potions, spare clothes, small jars both empty and filled with strange liquids, bags of coins or gems, and all matter of curios and samples she had collected over the years of travel. Finally upturning the bag, she set it aside and looked at the assembled mess of gear. Delicately she walked her fingers over the cover of her spellbook then flipped idly through its pages before treating her other texts with as much interest.

She then gave herself a hug and giggled, spinning in place.

Only then did she turn her gaze towards the window, the look of happiness draining from her face. She stood on the bed, stretching her toes as far as possible, straining towards the wounded sky. Suddenly she jerked back, lithely stepping off the bed and pressing herself against the wall furthest from the window. A small humanoid figure in grey had hopped down and was walking down that sloped section of the roof, their back to Bliks' room. With a slight quiver, she stalked back to her bed and returned all of the items to her pack, its extra dimensional space accommodating the mass of gear.

She then held her hands out in front of her, palms down, and took a deep breath. Smiling again, she tried the handle on the door then stepped into the hallway.

The inn was quiet. Her first few steps were tentative, riding on the balls of her feet, then she strode confidently down the hall running her fingers of one hand along the wood of the doors and walls. As she passed each door, she turned her head to read the number, and then paused when she turned the corner. Her attention was drawn to the door with a pair of mugs cut into it. Opening that, she stepped into the stairwell and first looking down and pausing to listen, she instead took the stairs up another flight and onto the roof.

Bliks looked up at the distorted sky and shook her head. Instead of points of light, there were lines and smears as if there was a great sheet of distorted glass between the ground and the real sky. Every few moments a line would waver or twist, sometimes rotating in place, sometimes vanishing altogether. The eastern horizon, however, was clear and sharp, as if the distorted glass only extended so far and no further, and seeing that she smiled. On the darkened horizon the stars marched out in a line only to blossom in a pinkish cloud on the firmament.

Wordlessly she started to dance. She looked to the east and bowed her head, rhythmically swaying, crossing her hands across her body and then intertwining them above her head. Her fingers flicked out as she brought her arms down until they rested on her flanks, only drag them back up again. Her breath fogged the air around her, dashed away as she danced. She spun in place, keeping her eyes fixed on the points of light in the sky, whipping her head around at the last second as she became like a top, whirling towards the stone crenelations at the edge of the roof. When she finally bumped into them, she came to a sudden halt, punctuating the moment with a glittering laugh.

"We thought you were tired, wizard."

Bliks' eyes looked up through her metallic bangs towards the voice. A pair of figures stood at the door to the stairs, hand in hand. "I was. I am. I just needed some fresh air," she said after a pause.

Avenia was slightly behind the taller Irabeth, her shoulder pressed up against the back of her wife's pauldron. The smaller woman looked up at her sterner spouse and said, "under Kenabres isn't a comfortable place to be, beloved. The air is thick and damp, dusty too."

The half orc looked at her human wife, squeezing her hand, "I am just thinking about tomorrow."

"Why not let tomorrow rest? Besides, we interrupted Bliksemani's wonderful dance."

"I should go," Bliks said, starting towards the pair and the door behind them.

"Please stay, if you are able," Irabeth replied apologetically, "my wife is right, as she often is in these matters, we … I interrupted you, I'm sorry."

Bliks stopped mid step and smiled. Anevia returned the expression and asked, "does your dance have a name? Some significance?"

"It's something a friend taught me … she called it 'The Steps of Fate'. I'm glad you liked it."

As Bliks spoke, Irabeth and Anevia walked together to the battlements, their hands unclasping as they hugged each other, facing east. Their breath mingled in the air as the three stood quietly, watching the sliver of uncorrupted sky. Irabeth broke the silence, "do you think we'll ever win? Seal the Worldwound that is. Iomedae says we must root out evil wherever it may lie, but are we any different from Gorum, constantly seeking evil to test ourselves against as his faithful seek never ending battle?"

"Gorum is blind to both the past and the future, love. They don't even celebrate great victories from years ago, looking only to the battlefield. The Inheritor honours the past and rewards those who prepare for the future."

"Always one to remind me of my own faith's tenants, dear. But thank you. What do you think Bliks? Perhaps another perspective could break our marital deadlock."

Bliks gave the pair a sidelong glance and then said, "the Abyss is eternal and without true borders. Old or older than the Maelstrom, perhaps as unfathomably vast. But the Worldwound is new. Fresh. Limited. If the expanse of the Abyss can only make this much intrusion into Golarion, I believe it is not destined to consume it."

"But will we win?"

"We may not have to. Countless realms have risen and fallen in the Abyss. The Worldwound might consume or … transform itself."

Anevia turned, resting her head on Irabeth's shoulder, "What do you mean … transform?"

"It changes every day. Always dark, always painful. But what if it destroyed its own destruction? Or what if, as the Abyss seeps into Golarion, Golarion seeped into the Worldwound?"

Kissing her wife's forehead, Irabeth replied, "you certainly have an interesting point of view. Do many in Numeria think as such?"

Bliks laughed joyfully, "I doubt it!" She then stifled her laugh and added, "now I really should be going."

"With our blessing," Avenia said, "and thank you again for reuniting us. I had thought that shrine would serve as my tomb … but Iomedae guided you, and thus us back together."

Bliks nodded and smiled at this, then hastily went down the stairs and back to her room. There she stood with her back pressed against the door and her hand on her chest. She winced when she looked at the bed so instead turned to the desk, sat and retrieved a sheaf of straw paper and quill. After writing a short note she opened her pack and retrieved a small pouch that was on top. Opening it, she sighed, and sorted through the spell components, separating out a chunk of beeswax and a vial of powdered ruby. Warming the wax against her chest, she saturated one side with the dust and then spread the result onto her lips. These she pressed against the paper just below her writing, and then set everything away, save for the note, which she left centered on the desk.

Then she disrobed, leaving her clothing in a sinuous trail between the desk and the bed until she was naked under the covers. Again she hugged herself tightly and then closed her eyes.

A low buzzing in her head woke Bliks. The cybernetic implant that serviced her bloodstream's healing nanites and provided her with an encrypted commset also had a simple timer function that she had set to wake her if it detected she was not conscious by a certain time in the morning. Normally it didn't have anything to do, as she was usually up by that hour, but today felt different. For the first time in years, not only did she feel groggy, but her muscles felt sore. Not the soreness of hard work or injury but of an uncomfortable bed.

Mentally she cancelled the alarm and rubbed her forehead. Years ago she had taught herself to subconsciously float off whatever surface she ended up sleeping on; innkeepers often sold their beds as being as light as a cloud, but she knew exactly what that felt like. But this morning she woke with heavy indentations in her feather and straw bed. And with a shock, she realized she was naked under the linen sheets.

Holding the sheets in place, being mindful of the open blinds on her window, she sat up and surveyed the room with concern. Her pack wasn't where she had left it. Her clothing from the day before was strewn across the floor. 'What happened last night?', she thought to herself, wracking her memory, 'Okay, so I was talking with Lann, Anevia, Aravnshinial, and Irabeth. Then they left. I laid down on the bed and … just now I woke up. Okay, let's match that against observation. I must have stripped down after they left but before I laid down … and been too tired to stay elevated while I slept.' Nodding at that current assessment, she tugged the sheets from the bed and started retrieving her clothing.

That's when she noticed the note on her desk. She shook her head again, again trying to recall the specific series of events before she drifted off to sleep, 'I don't remember stripping, but obviously I did … I don't remember moving my pack, but obviously I did … and I wrote a note too?'

Roughly pulling on her garments but leaving them loose, she sat at her desk and picked up the note.

 _To my kindred spirit,_ _**Thank you.**_ _Please do not be alarmed dearest friend, I neither meant nor did you any harm. I have longingly_ _ **dreamed**_ _of such a chance, to have a moment outside this accursed Worldwound, and in her wisdom, Desna tendered that onto me, through you. Again she showed me the shape of hope, and what a beautiful shape it is. May her blessing be with you,_ _ **always**_ _._

Below the writing were the faint markings in ruby dust of a pair of lips.

The handwriting wasn't familiar, but Bliks noted its smooth regularity, with the words 'thank you', 'dreamed', and 'always' pressed heavily into the paper, the swirls and additions around them turning them into pieces of art onto themselves. It didn't appear to have been written in haste and had an almost languid feel to it.

As she read the note again, she brought her hand up to her face and felt something tacky on her lips. Bringing a fingertip up to them, she scraped some of the wax off, marvelling at the glittering ruby dust. Presuming the outcome, she kissed the note beside where the previous markings were, and saw the same pair, less the line she had scraped off. A quick Prestidigitation removed the impromptu lipstick.

Bliks wracked her mind, 'possession? Mind Jar? Either way I would have remembered something. Wouldn't I? If I were asleep, would that wake me? Surely it must. Then why do I have no memory of those events? Modify Memory perhaps? But that'd cover such a short period of time. And it'd mean at least two casters were involved. Five minutes … enough time to write a note and disrobe, but surely …'

'Hey Bliks, are you coming?' Eryno's message cut through her thoughts.

For a moment she considered her response and then sent, 'What's going on? I just woke up.'

'That half orc paladin's setup a meeting in one of the common rooms. Looks like everybody who's somebody around here's been invited.'

'Okay, I'll be right down.'

'I'll save you a seat!' the half elf sent, his lethargy from yesterday's battle gone to be replaced with his unbounded cheerfulness.

Tucking her wine shaded shirt into her yellow pants, she tightened her belt and then adjusted her violet robes. A brief examination with a hand mirror later, she was about to leave her room when she paused, snatched the note off the table where she had left it and tucked it into a pocket.

The activity in the common room two floors below Bliks' room had not seemed to change from the previous day; there were some who were still sleeping, others speaking animatedly over hand held bowls of steaming food, while a few merely stared into an intermediate distance, expressions of rage, sadness, and apathy mixed throughout the space. One of the grey clad halflings rushed up to her side as she craned her neck around looking for Eryno or Hex.

"This way madam! Master Otai has arranged for the western common room for Mistress Irabeth's purposes," the smiling servant said, directing Bliks by the elbow.

Bliks nodded, asking "what's this meeting about?"

"I can't say madam, as I don't know. Master Otai has been very particular that we respect our guest's privacy in this matter."

Looking down at the halfling she added, "because Master Otai would normally want to know everything that's going on in his inn … so he could anticipate his guests' needs?"

The halfling continued to lead Bliks along, but she could feel his hand tighten briefly, "yes, of course! We always try to anticipate our guests' needs. We could hardly call ourselves a premiere establishment if we didn't!"

Like the foyer to Defender's Heart itself, the corridor between the two common rooms felt more like the space between portcullises of a gatehouse; arrowslits notched the walls and overhead were the distinct coffers of murder holes. More concerning to Bliks, however, was the singular guard at the far end. His armour was heavy, heavier still with the raised and sharpened edges, black with the plates and contours of an infernal flame. On a small table beside him rested his angular and horned helm, four openings for eyes of which its owner had only two. Instinctively she came to a halt, as his attention seemed distracted by a bundle of blankets beside his helm.

Sensing their presence, he looked up from playing with the sin seeker Varken, he flashed Bliks a smile that seemed incongruous with the garb of an Order of the Pyre Hellknight. His voice was strong, "chancellor Volgeling! I had hoped you would not miss this gathering," he concluded by extending a clawed gauntlet.

"No disorder!" Varken chimed in, its eyeless face poking through the blankets. The Hellknight kept his hand extended while he patted the creature with his other. It cooed at his attention.

Hiding her trepidation, Bliks took his offered hand, feeling leather press against her palm as her hand was enveloped by metal, each knuckle sprouting a rigid blade. "Hellknight … ?"

"Archi Volso, Marilictor of the Order of the Pyre, at your service," he replied with a curt bow, bringing Bliks' hand to his lips, "and it is truly my pleasure; I have been following your Torch Bearer's rise to power with admiration."

Again resisting the urge to withdraw her hand in disgust, she instead smiled, "I wasn't aware the Orders had interests in the politics of Numeria."

With a series of sharp clicks Archi released Bliks' hand, continuing to smile, "bringing order to a chaotic realm, why wouldn't we be interested? Alas, few of my sister and brothers see your reforms favourably." Before he could continue, the halfling escorting Bliks gave a forced cough. Nodding, he indicated the door behind him, "you're cleared to enter, though I hope we can converse later," and stepped aside.

Unlike the other common room, this one had been arranged with tables fanning out from the raised stage at the far side from where Bliks entered. Chairs lined each table, which themselves each had at least one map of the city. On the stage stood an aged mage she did not recognize, his receding hair solid silver, dressed simply in black with a button up shirt without collar. Scanning the room, she picked out Hex and Eryno seated near the front at a mostly empty table. Near them were Anevia and Irabeth Tirablade, who were conversing with the druid Crocris and the mongrelman Lann. Aravashinial sat with Horgus Gwerm, both having a halfling servant hovering nearby. When Marilictor Volso slipped into the room, he joined another Hellknight, who rubbed shoulders with members of the Eagle Watch.

Seating herself beside them, she sent to her companions, 'I hope I haven't missed anything.'

'Some introductions,' Hex replied, adding, 'you slept in.'

'Well she did party it up even AFTER running off,' Eryno retorted, 'why haven't you ever told us you could dance like that? The half orc's wife couldn't stop talking about it.'

'I guess I'm still full of surprises,' Bliks sent after a moment's consideration.

'Indeed,' Hex sent, nodding towards the stage, a clear sign for the companions to pay attention.

The old man on the stage rapped the floor with a walking cane, bringing silence to the room. "Good morning. Now that we've dispensed with introductions, I'd like to get to the point."

'Who is …' Bliks began

'Quednys Orlun, wizard, sage out of the Blackwing Library,' Hex replied tersely.

"… the utmost authority on Abyssal artifacts. I believe that when the Storm King attacked the wardstone, he did so with a Nahyndrian crystal, which allowed him to breach the Forbiddance field and shatter the Kite. I say attacked the wardstone because we have reason to believe while it has again been damaged, perhaps irrevocably so, some remnant of it remains." Quednys spoke like a lecturer despite the rough crowd and then nodded to Irabeth, who stood.

"The few scouts who have returned from Old Kenabres have reported that the servants of the Locust Host have barricaded themselves in the Gray Garrison. Quednys has convinced me that it is here that they have taken what remains of our wardstone."

Her comment met with shouts of "We must reclaim it!" "These vile cultists must die!" "Blasphemy!" only interrupted again by Quednys' cane rapping on the stage.

Irabeth continued, "further, runners from our crusader brethren to the north and south indicate that our people have again mobilized to face this renewed attack, gathering at the border, ready to push back those few demons strong enough to breach its glorious defence."

The mage picked up from there, "I am no strategist, but it is my belief that this is the true attack. All we have seen, the horrors in our streets, the destruction of Kenabres, the murder of Teredelev, is not an end, but a necessary step in their plan." He then paused, then added, "I believe they aim to corrupt the wardstones."

"Just as a sacred cup can be corrupted with a drop of poison, I believe they will pour their malice into our damaged wardstone and, in doing so, not just turn off the field, but turn it against us. Such is the terrible power of the Nahyndrian crystals."

"These crystals are not known to me," Bliks added, standing from her table, "but one cultist admitted, before she died, that Areelu Vorlesh herself is coming to Kenabres. Khorramzadeh, the Storm King, is but a weapon compared to her. I shudder at what in Kenabres would interest the witch who helped birth the Worldwound."

"Thank you, ah, Chancellor Volgeling?" Quednys replied. "That is ill news indeed. Demons had claimed there was 'another' coming but even under the most pressing persuasion would not say who."

The paladin again took her turn, "as you can imagine, our warnings to withdraw the crusade from the border have been rebuffed. Some have already reported probing attacks by the horde and refuse to back down in the face of this renewed threat."

"Thus," Quednys said solemnly, "for the body to live, we must cut out the disease. To save the crusade, Mendev, to even save Golarion, we must do what our enemy's began; destroy our wardstone."

The room erupted in shouts of protest mingled with the offers of undying protection of the wardstone. Claims and counter claims of purity or power to restore what was damaged rung out as the crusaders sought to be heard or accepted over the din.

"Enough!" Irabeth shouted, her voice cutting across the room. Angry looks were thrown towards the half orc and even some hands went to their blades. At her side now stood Hierach Hawkblade, having slipped through the throng with ease.

"You do not like me," the inquisitor began, "yes, I would say you hate me. But have I ever spoken an untruth? Were you not exonerated Lord Gwerm? Was there not some truth to Aravanshinal's concerns? Have I not shown the corruption in our ranks?"

Murmurs spread through the crowd, acknowledgments of the inquisitor's words. Yet still cold glances were cast at the unlikely pair.

"Iomedae answered my prayer for guidance. Only woe could come if Vorlesh laid a hand on our wardstone. Yes, we could hide it away. But could you stand where Hulrun fell? Or Eterrius? Or Nestrin? Or even mighty Terendelev? Is your heart so full of pride? We must stop the corruption here. Now."

"Hate me if you like, but listen to Iomedae's words. Only woe. We must not flinch. We must not falter. We must keep faith!"

"Then give me a dozen strong backs. We will get it done," Marilictor Volso boomed from the back of the room. "We will storm the Gray Garrison, deprive Vorlesh of her prize. We Hellknights know what it is to do what is necessary."

Irabeth nodded to the Hellknight and replied, "your arm will be needed in the fray, Archi, but such a large group would attract the attention of the demons and cultists who still roam the streets, and they might steal our wardstone away from the city, beyond our reach. We must instead strike out from here, attack their strongholds, draw their attention away the Gray Garrison."

"Then and only then will a small group fight their way into their heart, destroying the wardstone. I see your companions are assembled, are you still willing Black Sovereign?"


	12. A swallowed homecoming

"Who are you again?" Eryno asked, turning to the moneylender who was still fidgeting with the buckles on his recently purchased and ill fitting leather armour.

Glaring at the glowing slit that concealed the half elf's eyes, "I am Lord Horgus Gwerm, you walking iron door." Turning to Bliks he added, "I thought the help would be more burly and less talkative."

"My apologies, Lord Gwerm, my companion is fresh to Kenabres, so is not aware of your esteem," Bliks soothed, turning Horgus away from the towering Powered Armour. 'Sorry, let me handle this,' she sent to Eryno while pressing her lips into a thin smile.

He continued to squirm in the armour, trying to find a way to let it settle properly on his out of shape frame before giving up with a frustrated huff. "I suppose that as he is the personal bodyguard of the Black Sovereign that must count for something, but I would have thought such company would bring out better manners. Hirelings need to know their place. And at least he seems to know his way around a blade," he cotinued, resting a hand on his own newly purchased cold iron rapier, "I just hope that Androffan coffin he's in doesn't get him and the rest of us killed."

"Is there a problem?" Hex asked curtly, holstering one of his revolvers as he calmly walked over to the trio. He had opted for multiple holsters around his waist, giving him fast access to the diverse set of arms he had recovered from the various crashed starships across Numeria.

"Of course not, your majesty!" Horgus effused, "I was just telling your chancellor here how impressed I was with your bodyguard's equipment. Very fine, excellent manufacture, something you should be proud of."

Eryno shook his head in disbelief but said nothing. The midday sun glinted off of the Powered Armour's force field like oil on water and he absentmindedly tried to scratch his neck only to find the plating in his way. Following in Hex's example, he had secured several different rapiers to the Powered Armour's shell with magnetic clasps.

The four of them had long since been prepared to leave the square outside of Defender's Heart, but they busied themselves with double checking the gear and, under Horgus' direction, reviewed the map of Kenabres. "The shortest route to my manor would be to cut through to Brasenose Lane and then take Old Cornmarket. But if we insist on detouring to the Tirablade … residence … we'll have to go via Kybald Street before going back to Brasenose. Certainly, miss Irabeth can manage a jaunt to her own house from here?"

"I do not doubt your assessment of her abilities, Lord Gwerm," Bliks had replied, "but this city is far from the safe refuge it was merely a few days ago. Our paths lie close enough together that it would be unwise for either of us to travel without the other."

Horgus seemed to barely accept her explanation, only adding, "well, the longer it takes for you to escort me to my manor, the later the hour will be when I can show you true hospitality, not the meagre food and watered down wine of this … establishment. My servants will treat the Black Sovereign as is fit for his title!"

But that conversation was at least a half an hour in the past, as they waited for Irabeth to finalize the preparations for this evening's coordinated attack. For the first time since Kenabres fell, the Eagle's Watch would sally from Defender's Heart and strike at the various demonic and cultist strongholds.

Her arrival was heralded by the inn's door being unbarred and swinging open. "… to ensure that every crusader knows their duty. We can have neither flagging of confidence nor a breach in our secrecy."

"If your fellows are not sufficiently motivated by your example, Captain Tirablade, I will ensure their duty!" Marilictor Volso heartily laughed. Bliks had yet to see the man wear his demon inspired helm, which was always at his side, but she was convinced he was well aware of his armour's intimidating nature, balancing his duty against a desire not to unnecessarily disturb his allies. Here his Ulfen heritage shone through, as he always seemed quick to laugh or offer praise for deeds competently done. Even his braided blond hair stood in contrast to the matte black plate and blades of his office.

Flashing a tusked grin, the half orc nodded to Hex, "my apologies, Black Sovereign. As you must be well aware, the preparations for battle are not things to be left to chance."

Bowing slightly in response Hex simply said, "indeed."

She looked to Bliks, a question in the form of a raised eyebrow, who merely smiled broadly. Irabeth shrugged her shoulders under her fine plate mail, a gestured for them to head out. Just before they turned down an alley and out of sight of the inn she turned back, shouting "for the crusade!"

"For the crusade!" Volso shouted back, his bladed gauntlet held up in a fist as salute.

The neighbourhood looked no worse for wear than the day before, having avoided much of the destruction that had struck Kenabres, but the streets remained deserted. As they walked, Bliks could see a few eyes peering out from behind curtains or shutters, and not a few windows had furniture pushed up against them. She hoped that these survivors were still managing to get food and water.

The road they took had a gentle arc to it until they reached a sudden jog in the street. Spying a pair of crows watching them from a nearby sign, Eryno lined up one with the integrated laser in the Powered Armour's forearm. It vanished in a flash of heat and light, sending feathers billowing across the street.

'Uh … guys?' Eryno sent, now pointing at the remaining crow. It looked impassively at where its companion had recently sat then looked back at them, cawing. A handful of pigeons settled down across the street, silently watching the travelers.

Bliks let the wand of Magic Missile drop into her hand from its wrist sheath while one of Hex's revolvers seemed to jump into his hand. Seeing this activity, Irabeth also drew her longsword and tapped on Horgus' shoulder. The surprised nobleman had been reciting something under his breath and turned on the paladin with an irritated expression. He was about to say something when, with her own eyes, she guided his to the accumulation of silent avians now lining the street.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bliks saw sudden movement on the ground, only to see a handful of rats scurrying around the corner. They travelled in a line, evenly spaced out, running along the boardwalk, parallel the dry gutter. Neither they nor the birds registered as magical, nor did they have the characteristic of dangerous swarms she had previously encountered, but their behaviour was disturbingly abnormal.

'Be right back.' His boosters humming to life, Eryno bounded off in near silence, slipping around the jog in the street. Waiting for his return, the remaining travellers held their weapons of choice at the ready, pressed up against each other and the siding of what Bliks guessed was an upscale flophouse.

Overhead not a cloud blotted out the red hue, one that would have been expected at dusk but the sun hung languidly amid the sky, its disk bloated and scarred with spots and scars. Across the street from where they cowered, one of the rats stopped to sniff some piece of garbage. In challenge, three pigeons landed around it and started growling and cooing. The rat backed off from the most aggressive of the three only to be pecked ferociously by the other two as it scampered away. Eyeing the travellers, the pigeons flew back up to their perches, silent as before.

'It's clear, but you won't like it,' Eryno sent, breaking the silence in Hex and Bliks' heads. The android nodded to the others and they cautiously moved around the corner.

Eryno was at a crossroads several houses down, standing in the middle of the street. Just in front of him hung a limp body from an overhead rope. Once it was clear he wore the insignia of the Eagle's Watch Irabeth shook her head, "several of the scouts I sent out at first light had not yet returned. I had hoped that they were merely delayed. Alas." As they got closer, the wounds on the young man were evident; he had been severely mauled by talons that scorched and rent both armour and flesh. His legs were tied together and only one full arm remained, the other torn off at the elbow.

"I'm … not sure," Bliks said to the unasked question, "no demon that I know of could cause these kinds of wounds. Too small for a Balor … too precise for either an Ooze or Omox Demon … maybe a variant Shadow Demon, that strikes with flame instead of frost … and Lilitus brand with a touch, but not with their claws." Her shoulders fell slightly, "of course, the Abyss is constantly spitting up new monstrosities. Wait." She looked around quickly, "with his arm torn off like this, the street should be awash with his blood."

"They used a bucket," Eryno said, pointing to a barely noticeable circle of blood spatter around a clear patch of ground. Still the air was thick with the metallic smell of the man's vital fluid.

Horgus unexpectedly added, "does no one else notice there are no flies?

"Even as Deskari is the Lord of the Locust Host, such are the unnatural horrors of the Worldwound, Horgus," Irabeth icily replied, "I've seen corpses rot to ichor before we could even cast Gentle Repose and others showing new wounds long after their death. This … this is why the Eagle's Watch has been forever at your door."

Horgus seemed about to angrily reply when Hex interjected, "we should not tarry."

"My home is on the other side of this block, through this alley," Irabeth directed, leading the travellers away from the macabre scene.

Eryno boosted himself up to a roof, vanishing over its lip, shortly sending 'street's clear. Well … mostly clear.' Hex grabbed Irabeth's shoulder and brought the rest of the group to a halt. 'I think I found our scout's arm,' Eryno clarified.

Leading with his favoured revolver, Hex exited the alley first. Near the middle of the small cull de sac was a forearm with a still attached blood soaked hand. Turning to wave the group forward, he instead levelled his firearm at the building just down from the alley. As he circled towards the buildings furthest from the alley Irabeth led the group out.

The Tirablade residence's single story was uncommon in Kenabres, but seemed to be free from overt damage. What maintenance had kept it in good order was marred by the fresh writing on its front façade.

 **WELCOME** **HC**

Dripping in crimson, the C was clearly incomplete, and the wood slats of the building had been broken where it should have finished the O. The snapped bone of the scout's hand showed the ferocity that it had been used to pummel the wall after it failed as a brush. Nearby the discarded bucket was still slick with blood.

"My … home!" Irabeth finally exclaimed in horror, then again, "our home" in a barely concealed rage. Stomping across the street she reached for the door's handle.

Her shield clanged against Eryno's breastplate as he interposed his armour's bulk between her and the door. Baring her tusks, she growled at him before giving him a shove, "out of my way, outsider! Whoever did this clearly waits within and will meet my blade!"

"A champion on the field of battle you may be, Irabeth, but listen to my friend's silent council," Bliks said where she stood with the others. "His caution has saved my life on many a day."

"And clearly, paladin, this is a trap," Horgus added contemptuously, "any fool should have seen that. This writing, killing your man? All a setup."

"How are you so well versed in the ways of the Worldwound, moneylender?" Irabeth shot back, "despite the evidence, perhaps Aravshnial was onto something with his accusations!"

"Yes … yes!" a voice chortled from the open air between them all, "home at last and with sensible company." A crack seemed to open in that space, spewing forth a tendril of intestine, followed by ribs snapping the crack yet wider as it vomited out more internal organs. Over these muscle was knitted, themselves covered in a mottled green skin, as yet more bones and muscles painfully broke through the rift, forming limbs. Even as the torso was clad in parallel rows of small leather plates, the head swam into existence, its tongue worming up from the open throat and tusks bursting from raw gums. Finally an ornate helm feathered into place, giving its wearer the appearance of a twisted insect.

Irabeth spat then spoke, "your parlour tricks still don't fool me Vagorg" finishing by swinging her blade through the phantasm.

"Oh they aren't meant to fool you, but I doubt those weak minded crusaders at Defender's Heart have your insights. That's where she is, isn't it?"

In a flurry of leather, blood, and skin the image rearranged itself into a striking duplicate of Anevia before again shifting in a revolting fashion to mirror the paladin's appearance from the frizzle of her black hair to the bronzed plate armour.

"They surely wouldn't turn away their captain, now would they?"

The half orc turned back to face the impassive faceplate of Eryno's armour, her face filled with pleading, "please, let me pass. I cannot, I will not let him touch my wife."

"I intend to do more than touch her … I've always wanted to see Deskari's children slowly feast on a living host. It is beautiful I am told."

"Bliks?" Hex asked.

"As you wish Sovereign," she replied, dismissing the still laughing Fearsome Duplicate with a casting of Dispel Magic, "but I do have to say, he made quite an appearance. Fine technique."

Giving the mage a sickened look, Irabeth turned to Hex, "now what is our course? Walk into this trap or leave him to strike my fellows as they rest for tonight's assault? You seem intent on not doing the former yet I do not think you a fool as to allow the latter."

"Caution is not inaction," Hex replied, nodding to Eryno, who turned and began examining the door. Without touching it, he ran his gauntleted hands swiftly and steadily over its frame and then across its entire surface. He then paused and traced a finger in a spiral pattern over one of the door's quadrants until he tapped the air above a point near the frame.

With a sudden thrust he stabbed that point with a short blade in his other hand then stepped back as the blade arced and a spiderweb of glowing lines spread out from its centre. Irabeth tentatively reached out as the lines faded and then looked to the ranger.

Eryno's voice was slightly tinny through the suit's speakers, "Bliks could explain it, I guess. Magic traps have these weak points. Jab 'em in the right place and they break."

"Now that unpleasantness is resolved, this problem is not my concern," Horgus said, straightening his back, "may I suggest, your majesty, that we let the crusader have her revenge while your companions escort me to my manor?"

"Lord Gwerm. During the recent Sovereignty Succession, there were three paths. Support, oppose, flight. Those nobles who supported me had my loyalty. Those nobles who opposed me had my respect. Those nobles who flew had my contempt." Hex said flatly to the air before turning to look at Horgus, "The other nobles of Kenabres have either died or fled. You have not. Yet."

Horgus wilted slightly under Hex's gaze, even though it bore no particular malice or threat; the android was as impassive as ever. "But of course, your majesty, it was only a suggestion."

Trying the handle, Eryno opened the door, "Whoa."

Looking past his suit, Bliks could see a strange sight. Instead of the expected humble front hall, for all she could imagine she was looking down the throat of some massive beast, its lips gaping and pressed up against the doorframe. Eryno's adamantine blade tested the lips and they came away uncut. "Hard. I'd say some kind of force barrier."

"It's a demiplane!" Bliks exclaimed, her eyes dimming from a Detect Magic, "I've been planning to create one of my own … this is fascinating!"

Hex rested a hand on the floating mage's shoulder, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm certain, Sovereign," she replied, trying to calm her voice, "a temporary one by my guess. There's a Gate between us and it's location, but normal Gates last at most a few minutes. In any case, powerful magic was used to make this, as powerful as I have seen."

"This is madness!" Irabeth added, "Vagorg was a mercenary sorcerer, I bested him with ease years ago, and yet you speak of him as an equal!"

Bliks pursed her lips, "perhaps he had help or found some font of power."

Having backed away from this abnormal sight, Horgus said, "how can we even be certain he is in there? Would it not be unwise to step into this trap?"

"A demiplane is not idly made, Lord Gwerm," Bliks explained, reaching a hand beyond the door's threshold, "and any kind of environment or layout could be inside. He'd have the ultimate home ground. As Irabeth said, our choices seem to be that we either face him on his terms or he faces our allies; either way he has the advantage."

"Proceed Spymaster," Hex said to which Eryno gave a thumbs up and elbowed his way into the glistening tunnel. Bliks floated in after him and then paused, turning to look at Horgus. The nobleman began to throw his hands up, and then steeled himself, following Bliks. Hex took the next place in line while the half orc paladin brought up the rear.

Once the last of the party had entered, Bliks looked back, half expecting the mouth to close and the tunnel to convulse like some great beast swallowing them down, but the ruddy light of the Worldwound seeped in through the open Gate. Then she winced as a droplet of some kind of fluid fell on her face from the tunnel's ceiling. Inside was considerably warmer and more humid than Kenabres, while the walls themselves seemed to glow dimly like light seeping through a hand held up to the sun. The air also reminded Bliks of the breath of a victim of some wasting plague; she was glad for her ever present breeze to keep the foulness from overcoming her. Behind her she could hear Horgus cough as he breathed through his mouth.

Pausing for a moment, Bliks opened her pack withdrawing a bulky Signal Booster, attaching it with its built in clamps to one of the walls. Its outer plates opened like a metal flower, sprouting spines and arrays. "Just in case he's not actually here," Bliks said to Irabeth, "I left a commset with your inquisitor."

The tunnel seemed to spiral gently downwards and despite the slime was not overly slippery. Eryno made no attempt at stealth, his suit's massive frame brushing wall as well as ceiling leaving behind clear streaks as the fluid sloughed off. Then the tunnel opened up into a small chamber, a few feet drop down to its floor. Landing in several inches of liquid Eryno swept his blade around the space before Bliks floated down after him.

When a heavy weight fell on her back, she was initially brought to curse Horgus' clumsiness but then felt teeth digging into her neck and screamed. Eryno spun, stabbing right past her head. Another scream filled her ears, this time not her own. She fell into the fluid on the floor of the room. The weight suddenly vanished, the pain of the bite became burning.

"Babau!" Irabeth shouted.

The chamber was empty again. Clasping a hand to the back of her neck, Bliks looked around as the others jumped down into the shallow pool. Then from the other exit a skeletal figure pounced on Eryno, it's claws sparking off his force field. He ignited his boosters but the flame coursed around the demon barely pushing it back. Then he jumped back, slamming it between the wall and his suit. The creature screamed again, an inhuman howl, then vanished again.

"Inheritor, that thing's fast," Eryno said.

"Demons with Quickened Teleport? That's not good," Bliks replied, holding a Wand of Magic Missile at the ready.

The roar of Hex's revolver announced its next appearance, shot as it dropped down from the curved ceiling. It merely snarled and disappeared without attacking.

Flicking her wrist, the wand withdrew on a thin wire and Bliks fumbled with one of her packs' side pockets. Her other hand now burned with the acid that the demon was covered in.

Her arm lancing out, Irabeth speared the creature when it next appeared, her blade sliding between its ribs. Lining up her arm, Bliks fired off the newly retrieved wand, a pale green aura surrounding the demon. Claws raked across the paladin's plate, marring its polished surface.

It looked all the part of a victim of starvation, every bone protruding painfully, its arms and legs thin as rails, each limb ending in claws. Just above its sunken eyes protruded a pair of horns and it was devoid of hair, yellow slime dripping off its taut grey skin.

" _Who sent you?_ ", Bliks said in Celestial, " _answer and you will not suffer._ "

In her mind she heard its response, even as it gnashed its teeth and tried pulling itself along Irabeth's blade, 'I care not who brought me!' Its progress was reversed as Eryno slammed a gauntleted fist against its chest.

"Kill it, it …" Bliks began before she was drowned out by Hex emptying his revolver into its head. As she had suspected, the Summoned creature dissipated back to the Abyss. "It knew nothing," she finished, "sent to test our reactions I'd reckon. Barely a scout." The pain of her wound subsided and she looked at the minor burns her hand now sported. As she had the night before, she sent her internal nanites to her wounds. Immediately she could feel a flush pass over her.

"Magister?" Hex asked.

Bliks shook her uncomfortably warm head, "it's all right, I've just pushed my nanite reserve beyond its recommended levels. Just a little uncomfortable, I'm still good to proceed." Her stomach growled and her tongue felt sticky as the little machines drew on her body's resources to fuel their repair operations.

Looking across the group, Hex said "we invite more if we tarry," and once again Eryno led the group through the tunnels. As he strode, he shifted his shield back as he attached one end of a manacle to his wrist, idly tossing the loose end. The slope now mostly levelled off, but soon enough the liquid on the floor rose so they waded knee deep. Bliks robes dripped from the viscous fluid even as she floated herself, crosslegged, above its surface. The light was also dimming, which did not impede the Torch Bearers, but Horgus began to stumble. Hex released a brightly glowing Ioun stone around the nobleman's head.

As they sloshed through the dark tunnel, Horgus said "tell us, Captain, how do you know this sorcerer?"

"It was many years ago," Irabeth began, her voice sounding hollow behind her visor, "when I was working as a marshal for the city-state of Tymon, he was a member of a cult to Xoveron, demon lord to gargoyles. They had been too free with their coin in buying large quantities of Alchemist's Fire, so I was given the task of determining their true intentions. In an attempt to create a sacred ruin for their master, they conspired to burn down a neighbourhood."

"With the help of several of the blooded gladiators, we foiled their plan. Guile let him strike at my companions, driving fear into their hearts. Only by Iomadae's grace was I able to overcome his foul magics and end his mad scheme. He had a silvered tongue, even trying to convince me that it was a foul mistake of our shared heritage, to let him flee from humans who would only kill him. Last I knew, he worked gagged in the arenas."

"Tunnel's opening up," Eryno reported, cutting Irabeth's story short.

The walls of the chamber ahead were beyond Bliks' darkvision, but curved away to either side. Grinning to either side of their tunnel were crouched four headed gargoyles, crude approximations of Xoveron. A path led out of the sludge, winding up a rise in the terrain, cutting through tumbled down stone walls and collapsed arches. The stench of decay was overpowering, but the air was otherwise still.

"Welcome!" a voice cut through the darkness, its source uncertain, "I'm so pleased my dear Irabeth told you of our last congress."

"Face us, coward!" the paladin shouted in challenge.

"Mind Lord Gwerm," Hex commanded Irabeth, who stared at him in defiance, then huffed agreement. With inhuman speed, Eryno dashed to the remnants of the nearest wall, his armour seemingly taking on its appearance, even though Bliks knew that that could only be a trick of her mind. She stood from her seated position, still floating above the liquid, cautiously moving about the perimeter of the chamber. From his belt the gunslinger swapped in different shells, firing them off into the darkness only to have them explode harmlessly in balls of brilliant illumination.

The centre of the chamber was a massive mound, with crumbling perimeter walls and a smashed cairn at its summit. Splintered remains of great timbers lay under toppled cyclopean boulders. Encircled by a natural moat, the whole looked all the part of a ruined outpost in some forgotten swamp, somehow transported into this place. Everywhere perched gargoyles.

'Can't see any half-orc sorcerers here,' Eryno sent over the link from somewhere in the ruins.

Bliks swept the area with Detect Magic, 'this whole place radiates, I can't see any magic standing out from the background'

"It is a wonderful tribute, you and these Deskarans give to my lord. All these cities left in ruin between your squabbles. Each sanctified in his name. The Horned Prince need not send a single follower from Ghahazi and yet that realm grows. All thanks to you. Your failure to protect Kenabres is another welcomed gift."

Bliks heard, almost felt the grunt over the link that Eryno sent out. Turning to scan the mound, she saw one of the many gargoyles swing up after dealing some telling blow to the ranger. Magic Missiles stabbed from her wand, joined by bullets from Hex's gun, shredding the stone creature mid flight. She flew towards where Eryno stood, one hand with his favoured rapier at the ready while the other swinging the loose end of the manacle. Another gargoyle animated, this time trying to grapple with him. It sprawled to one side after he backhanded it with his shield, again shattering under repeated gunfire. The next tore through his flickering force field, getting purchase on his suit. This one he drove back with a slash which Bliks dispatched as Hex reloaded. The gunslinger then peppered another enough that Eryno could finish it off with his forearm Laser Pistol.

"Come on, I'm hardly breaking a sweat here," Eryno taunted with a laugh.

The trio stood at the mound's apex, waiting for the next gargoyle to animate.

Bliks looked around. Her heartbeat slowed. 'Do you see anything?' she sent to the others, the nervous energy of battle gone but without conclusion.

'No,' Eryno replied.

'Same,' Hex agreed.

Around the entrance to the large chamber a shimmering wall of light sprang into existence. "Father, Master, secure your faithful!" Horgus yelled from its far side. His yell was joined by an animalistic howl and a righteous shout. Through the Prismatic Wall's oscillating colours, Bliks could make out Irabeth fending off one of the two gargoyles that had stood near them.

It was hardly fair. It towered over her, its claws catching her blade and twisting it out of her grip. With a casual toss the creature flung the blade through the Wall to its annihilation. Horgus' jab into its side evoked only a howled spell casting that had him curled in a ball. It then snatched Irabeth by the neck, ignoring the blows she delivered with her morningstar.

"Hex, I know your plan was to ration our resources for tonight," Bliks said, finishing her explanation by casting Friendly Transposition, resting a hand on the back of Eryno's Powered Armour.

A heartbeat later and her hand was instead against Irabeth's plate and the gargoyle creature had its hands around the stiff neck of the Androffan suit. It merely sneered and spat a stream of acid onto his helm.

It then turned its attention away from his grappling partner to see where Irabeth had appeared screeching, "I will furnish your marital bed with your entrails, paladin! And you!" it continued, turning to address Eryno through the hole it had melted, "you cannot contain my power!" It grinned a mouth full of fangs and tusks, and then looked down at the green aura that now surrounded them both.

The other manacle of the Dimensional Shackle now bound them together. The beast wrenched at the links, but found the Powered Armour's other hand tightened around its stone like wrist, leaving the links slack.

Soundlessly, the weapons and equipment attached to the Powered Armour fell, their magnetic clasps disengaging. Emergency seals popped and the chest of the suit blasted away, smashing into the monster's chest. Momentarily thrown off balance, it stabbed a claw into the cavity where Eryno had just been.

Free of his suit, the ranger was as spry as any snake, dodging and rolling away from the creature as he grabbed his rapier and shield. He may not have been an Aldori swordlord, but his spiked shield could strike true just as easily as his rapier could deflect attacks.

A laser blast passed through the Prismatic Wall, harmlessly burning the beast. It screamed in frustration and exaltation, "I am a scion of the Abyss! Blessed with the elixir of Death and Life! You are no match for me, little things."

Its movements were hampered by the unyielding grip the suit still had on it, but it still lashed out at Eryno and he could feel the heat of its claws sear his bare skin where the claws barely grazed. Seeing his blade glance off its rock like hide, he stepped back and dropped the blade.

The thrusters flared to light on the suit, jerking the two linked giants to one side. Grabbing his other forearm, Eryno held his shield in front of him. Then in a blur, his exposed cybernetics glowing in overdrive, he ran forward, slamming into the gargoyle.

For a moment as it staggered, it seemed unconcerned by this attack. Then one of its wings touched the Wall and shattered as it was simultaneously burnt, melted, and electrocuted. The Wall then seemed to draw the beast into it, with an unbearable suction.

"My Prince, why?!" it screamed as it was inexorably ripped apart, "I was using them! For your glory!" Its howls of protest ended as its head was sucked through and the Wall winked out, its forearms and a part of a leg falling inert to the ground.

The chamber then rocked, throwing the survivors around. Then, with surprising speed it contracted, squeezing its contents through the entrance. Only fluid seemed to be carried alongside their bodies, the shattered gargoyles, the ruins, all left behind. Around the twisting tunnels they were hurled, riding the crest of the collapsing demiplane.

When they were ejected out into Kenabres, the liquid stayed behind, even shedding from their clothes as they were forced through the Gate.

Bliks was the first to regain her feet and she looked to the others, "is everyone alright?"

Hex nodded while Eryno gave a thumbs up, the burns on his chest already healing under nanite administrations. Horgus wouldn't meet her gaze while Irabeth stared into space, seemingly still in shock.

"That. That was Vagorg," Irabeth said, not speaking to anyone, "he was twisted, powerful, but it was him. I saw it in his eyes, in his tusks."

"The power of the Abyss," Bliks replied, "he must have somehow given himself over to it and it remade him in his master's image." She then paused, pondering, "then why did Xoveron turn on him? I had thought that your charge would remove the Prismatic Wall as a barrier to Hex's bullets … and who was he using?"

Horgus began to weep. It was a painful thing to hear, like many sorrows rising at once, no longer contained. "You, you, you judged me w w wrong Sovereign," he began to babble, "I w w wanted to flee. It showed me w what I am, a coward."

Brought back to focus, Irabeth crouched before the man, resting her head against his chest, and holding him close despite his feeble attempts to push her away. "I heard you call out to Abadar, the Wealthy Father, the Master of the First Vault. You struck at Vagorg despite his terrifying visage." She looked up at the man through her visor, "his spell put fear into your heart, fear that was not there on its own accord."

Outside her blood stained home, the moneylender returned her embrace.

'Did anyone else feel that pulse?' Eryno sent silently over the link as he crawled back into the shell of the Powered Armour, damaged beyond immediate usefulness but not destroyed.

Hex looked over at Bliks and nodded, 'Yes. Same as Hellion and Unity.'


	13. The graves of three mothers

Sergeant Janom squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to get himself to concentrate. Monitoring the radio communications on the middle, opperations deck of the cohort headquarter's VAU-4-UN Super Heavy Transport robot was an unenviable job. The almost constant stream of tweets and whistles might have sounded like something out of the vast jungles of the Mwangi Expanse, but to Janom it could be painful. Volumes and tones would shift depending on the relative importance and sender, but it was all robot to robot communication. In training he asked the VAU-4-UN what the substance they were sharing and it broke it down as to the precise location, size, flammability, and opacity of a seemingly never ending list of trees within weapons range, interspersed with reports on terrain conditions, rocks, birds, even clouds. He thought it was appropriate that the radio bursts sounded like birds chattering in a bush, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

The silence cut through to his attention. A blue light flickered on his console, with the same chirp being repeated after each flash.

"This is Arqueros Black Pronto. I have not understood your message, please say again, over."

The system chirped again in his ears.

"This is Arqueros Black Pronto. Speak slower, over."

"Arqueros Black Pronto this is Arqueros Black Ironside. How do you copy, over?"

"Arqueros Black Ironside this is Arqueros Black Pronto. Copy 5 of 5, over." Janom sighed. The robots always seemed to want to know they're being heard before they actually transmitted anything. That and their insistence on using this overly formal communication; one of the researchers from the Numerian Institute of Technology had told him it was how the Androffan military communicated and that they just had to get used to it.

"Arqueros Black Pronto this is Arqueros Black Ironside. Request contact Arqueros Black Sunray, over."

'Major Danug?' Janom thought.

"Arqueros Black Ironside this is Arqueros Black Pronto. Wait, out. Major?"

Across the deck Major Danug sat reviewing some reports on an Androffan tablet. It seemed to be an odd combination to Janom, this hulking Kellid barbarian holding a glowing sheet of glass; the man even wore a pair of eyeglasses. "Sergent?" The large man replied, setting the tablet aside.

"Sir, Four Un Seven wants to talk to you sir."

"Did he say why?"

"Sir, no sir."

Clipping a field commset in place, Major Danug said, "Arqueros Black Ironside this is Arqueros Black Sunray, over."

"Arqueros Black Sunray this is Arqueros Black Ironside. Request cancellation of escort. Request assignment of two Ex Ah You Two units. Request immediately deployment to Kenabres, over."

"Arqueros Black Ironside this is Arqueros Black Sunray. Requests acknowledged. Wait, out." He tapped a key on the commset and continued, "Captain, has our situation changed?"

"No Major. Aside from the local militia we spotted an hour ago, there's nothing on the board. Why?"

"Four Un Seven wants to break formation."

"What? I'll be right down."

Captain Elka slid down the ladder from the upper, tactical deck. She, like Janom, was from the city of Chesed and lacked the scarring and weathering her commander sported as a typical Kellid.

"Did it give a reason why?"

"No he didn't, but he has shown considerable initiative. We're riding heavy with both him and Four Un Three."

"Yes sir, but we're both in foreign territory and shouldn't give those things too much leeway. It needs to know we're in charge."

"Well he did ask for permission Captain, he's respecting the chain of command. Many of my tribesmates would ask for forgiveness after the fact."

"I still advise against it."

"I'll put that in the record. Thank you Captain. Arqueros Black Ironside this is Arqueros Black Sunray. Request justification for your requests, over."

"Arqueros Black Sunray this is Arqueros Black Ironside. I believe the Black Sovereign to be in danger. We have not had radio contact since initiation of Iron March protocol, over."

"Arqueros Black Ironside this is Arqueros Black Sunray. The Black Sovereign has been in radio silence before. I will not approve requests without justification, over."

"Arqueros Black Sunray this is Arqueros Black Ironside. Arqueros Alpha Starlight said to be receptive to Lady Luck's signs. Last night The Rose was brighter than usual for approximately seven minutes. Ex Ah You Two reports have included observations of many unexpectedly wilted flowers. I believe she is warning us of the loss of hope, over."

"Arqueros Black Ironside this is Arqueros Black Sunray. Requests approved. For Numeria, over."

"Arqueros Black Sunray this is Arqueros Black Ironside. WILCO. For Numeria, out."

"It wants to go running off because it saw some wilted flowers? Why do you give it such leeway?"

"He Captain, he."

"Yes sir."

"All my life I've only ever seen those gearsmen round up my countrymen, impassively but stupidly following the literal orders of the blasphemous Technic League. But Four Un Seven? He broke ranks to take a collapsing building on his hull … spared the lives of several civilians. I asked him why … his interpretation to 'save Starfall' meant not just to save the place, but the people in it. All of them have been acting differently since the Black Sovereign came to power. You and I need to recognize that."

Bliks ran a finger across the bubbled remains of the Powered Armour's visor. 'What happened to your fields?' she sent.

'The gargoyles took them down, little buggers,' he replied, looking over from some reading on a still intact screen, 'you think if they were up, I could've gone through that Wall?'

'I doubt it. Prismatic Walls do more than just damage, it probably would have sent you … elsewhere. And no, I don't want to try it out when we get back to Starfall.'

'You're no fun!'

In the middle of the cul-de-sac Hex turned on his heel, eyes scanning doors, windows, and rooftops. It always amazed Bliks how he kept active, never seemed to tire or get bored. Her momentary reverie was broken by Eryno curse, 'it's saying I can't use it if I want it to fix itself! I was looking forward to cutting loose tonight.'

'Do without.' Hex sent monotonously to which Eryno rolled his eyes.

For a moment Bliks considered then sent, 'this might work to our advantage. We'll look just like any other group of crusaders.'

"Hey paladin!" Eryno said over the Powered Armour's speakers, his voice tinny but much louder, "Mind if I stash my suit in your house?"

Soon after his breakdown, Irabeth had taken Horgus inside while the Torch Bearers recovered from their battle. A faint voice called out, "Of course friend!" Bliks waved for Eryno to head inside, a gesture he mirrored which only made her eyes narrow. Between them stepped Hex, his head shaking as the half elf broke into laughter.

With the shutters and curtains closed, the front room was dim, but Bliks could make out its humble furnishings. Easily the largest room in the house, it was a simple kitchen with a table for meals at which Horgus sat. His eyes still seemed puffy from his earlier outburst, but he otherwise had regained his composure as he drank from a tankard.

"Safest might be to conceal your suit in our pantry," Irabeth said gesturing, "and please, make yourself comfortable."

Hex sat at a small desk near the door, his back to a wall while Eryno muscled his suit around the table and into the small pantry. Irabeth was nervously pacing, adding "we don't often have guests."

With a smile Bliks said, "for the captain of the Eagle's Watch, your home is quite modest. When you told me it was in the Gate District I was surprised, most others at your station would demand at least something in New Kenabres."

"We wish to set an example, that others might focus on the Worldwound, not on material comforts."

Horgus looked up from his drink, "you're naïve paladin. If you want respect, you can't just have good intentions, you need to put on airs." Irabeth looked at him agape. "You may not like it, but not everyone is as high minded as you."

"Let's not quibble over politics," Bliks said soothingly. She shot the half orc a sharp look then said, "besides, I have something that you might appreciate. Come, sit."

She immediately winced at a crash from the pantry followed by a muffled "sorry!" The two women then joined Horgus at the table, only to hear the clatter of metal and another "sorry!" Rolling her eyes Bliks shook her head in disbelief at her companion's inexplicable clumsiness. Smiling she lifted her pack on to the table.

"When I was under Kenabres, in exchange for their assistance in finding your wife, the Descendants of the First tasked me with wiping out an enclave of demon worshipers. Amongst their treasures I found this." From her pack's extradimensional space she drew out a long darkwood case. "Seeing as you recently lost your sword, I thought this might make an appropriate replacement."

Irabeth slid the case in front of her and snapped open its clasps. As it opened, and the golden brilliance of the longsword Radiance spilled into the room, all but Hex drew in a breath. It glowed of its own accord now, illuminating the kitchen with the warm touch of sunlight. "This … is precious," the paladin stammered, "I am surely not worthy of it."

"Who would you say would be?" Bliks replied.

Irabeth looked to the pantry door where Eryno was standing, "you're a great swordsman, are you not? A champion of good and purity?"

"Well, yeah, but I've got my bases covered," the half elf said, several scabbards hanging off his waist.

"Who better to wield Yaniel's famous blade than one resisting the taint of the Worldwound? Even if she is gone, her blade remains … and it did not glow in my presence alone … it calls to you Irabeth Tirablade. Take it and carry on her legacy."

With renewed confidence, the paladin slipped her hand into the mithril crossguard, her green fingers tightening around the cold iron wire that covered the weapon's hilt. For a moment, the blade blazed with light, blinding Bliks, before the aura seemed to spread over Irabeth herself. The half orc stood, her shoulders back, a new gleam in her eyes, as she held the sword before her.

Then Bliks doubled over in pain, her hands snapping to her temples as her head suddenly felt like it was being crushed, a thousand eyes suddenly upon her. Tossing a handful of coal dust and finishing an incantation, Bliks centered a Darkness spell on herself, but heard a taunting whisper, "pathetic wizard, do you think your mere spells will block my sight?"

In a flurry, she threw her chair back and bolted out the door, her head pounding in time to the laughter in her ears. Outside she shot into the sickly sky. "Clever, clever indeed, to separate yourself from your … friends … so you would not betray them further" the feminine voice cooed, "but I still see you. I can't wait to see what's wrong with you, to peel back your skin, your mind's eye … Bath'tanath said so much before I finished with him. I wonder … how many times will I have to flay your soul before I find out what he meant?"

Somewhere far away she could hear Eryno or Hex sending her messages, or Irabeth shouting, but the coursing howl in her ears, a screeching laughter, an indomitable will pressing against the vault of her thoughts, suffocated every other sense. "Where are you?" the voice whispered in one ear, her breath hot and the slight tingle of the flick of a tongue, "you can trust me, lover" her other ear registered, the feel of sharp teeth pressing against her skin, "we can be together, as you always wanted", from lips pressed close to her own, "no more fears, no more doubts."

Then, through the hurricane, a single bell tolled.

It was distant, forlorn, but clear.

Again it rang, quiet but insistent. The wind snarled but began to die. Something wet stained her lips and she reached out for the ringing surety. Her hands felt weighed down by chains, her legs stuck in amber, yet she strained against her restraints.

Something cracked. She was sure it was one of her ribs. The voice was a panting howl, teeth tearing at her, like a beast fending off a scavenger. Then something else cracked. Another bone? Her jaw felt numb.

Then a golden light broke through the storm, parted the clouds in her mind, and it was done.

Around her, her clothes were in disarray, their edges frayed. Laying on the ground, a figure in gold gleaming above her, its sword a sun. She could taste the metal, her blood, as lip dripped and then all went dark.

"What in Avernus was that?" she heard Eryno say. He was somewhere nearby, holding her? Carrying her? She felt a wet cloth against her brow, another dabbing at her bleeding mouth. With significant effort, she opened her eyes, finding them strained as if she had squeezed them tight.

Irabeth stood above her, chanting one of Iomedae's liturgies, Radiance held high creating a glowing dome of light and protection. Eryno's face was near, as he administered some ointment to her skin. The handsome half elf caught her open eyes and smirked, "at least you're not dead. Again."

Her side ached, her head thundered, her lips were sore, her brow strained, and her jaw felt like she had been punched. "Dominate … Person," she said at last, her mouth painfully forming the words, "unlike … I've ever … felt."

"Well it looked bad. You were floating up there, flailing about, then slammed into a streetlamp and came tumbling down," Eryno said, his hands doing much of the talking. "You kept flopping there until she," he thumbed towards Irabeth, "came out and did that thing with her sword."

Bliks pressed the wet cloth against her pained forehead, letting her head roll back realizing she lay on a table. "We tested ourselves against Unity, but this was beyond its power. I fear that Areelu must be in Kenabres already … that or I am being plagued by the gods."

The glow in the kitchen dimmed as the Paladin finished her hymn, lowering Radiance to one side. "I thought you had reacted to the blade, to my claiming ownership of it, but Iomedae consoled me, sent me to your side."

"It was rather disturbing," Horgus added noncommittally.

"We should not tarry," Hex said, repeating himself from earlier.

Struggling to sit, Bliks said "yes, Sovereign, our duty is even more pressing I feel." With a deep breath she felt the breezes stir up about her once again and she was lifted upright. "I am able to travel, but I must travel apart from you, if only to not give our adversary any clues as to our intent."

Heading outside, Hex, Bliks, and Horgus waited for Eryno to slip into his well worn suit of heavily enchanted studded leather armour while Irabeth tested the weight and balance of her new sword. Floating at least a story above ground, Bliks felt exposed, shivering slightly. She curled her legs up under her so she seemed to be sitting in mid air, folding her arms across her chest, trying to become as small as she could.

"Alright, let's go!" Eryno said almost too cheerfully, bounding out the Tirablade residence.

The most direct path to Gwerm Manor meant they had to cut back and forth, using several alleys along the way. That bothered Bliks the most as she had to fly high above the rooftops so as to have nothing identifiable within Scrying distance of her. This she did as quickly as possible, hanging back from the rest of the group until they had made their passage.

Still as they progressed south, the city started to again show signs of destruction accompanied by the occasional body in the street or more often a mere smear. Bliks saw the gouge they would have to cross before the others and quickened ahead of them to scout for an easy route down. The path of descent was forgiving but on the far side Eryno had to scramble up a steep incline to secure a rope for the less capable of the group.

Once they had cleared the gouge, Horgus started to show greater spirit, making commentary about the abandoned shops and boarded up homes, which ones had particular good products or how much they had borrowed from him. No business venture or renovation seemed to be below his interest as he remarked on everything from loans for a new stove to a handful of silver for a stout pair of boots. The businesses lining Old Cornmarket were of particular pride, as he proudly pointed out the initial G painted somewhere near their entrances, a discount he offered to increase his local notoriety.

As they turned off that thoroughfare Gwerm Manor came into view. It was a considerable building, wide with circular turrets dominating either end. At her altitude, Bliks guessed it had at least three, perhaps four functional floors, with steeply pitched metal roofing above that. The ground floor had only small windows set high in their walls, while the upper floor windows were all tightly shuttered. Neither light nor sound came from the building.

Horgus scowled, "these are not the instructions I left. Where are my guards, my groom? I will have words with Sofila." He tried the door, a smile breaking the scowl as he found it locked. An intricate key opened their way into the darkened manor.

Shaking her head, Bliks came to a stop short of the entrance. "Your home could easily be recognized, could it not Lord Gwerm?"

Almost absentmindedly Horgus said, "but of course, I pride myself on …"

Bliks held up a hand and interrupted, "then I cannot enter."

The contorted look on Horgus' face suggested he was about to angrily protest then he tapped his forehead, nodded, and led Hex inside, "after you, Sovereign!" Eryno and Irabeth hung back. Horgus paused, adding "you are all welcome, of course!"

"I'll keep Bliks company, you guys go ahead," Eryno replied, tipping his head to Irabeth whose exaggerated sigh Hogus didn't seem to notice.

Even before they were out of sight Eryno said "so what're you doing after this?"

'After this we still have to navigate…' she sent in reply

"No, no, I mean after we're done in Kenabres. I get it, you were curious, and it just happens to help Numeria if you give Mendev a hand. But what's next? A diplomatic mission to Ustalav or Brevoy? More robot reclaimation sweeps of the Felldales?"

'Surely the task at hand …'

"Can wait. Humour me Magister."

Bliks balked. "Magister? What's become of you?"

He smiled his lopsided grin, "when we're out like this you forget my day job. I'm not dumb, I know how Scrying works. People can read lips."

Bliks grinned in response, "well, I do hope to increase the ranks of robots in our military. That and convince more of the tribes to sign up. Numeria really does need a strong central-"

Shouting from inside the manor broke her train of thought. 'His house has been burgled,' Hex sent.

"A man flouts his wealth then is surprised when it is taken from him?" Bliks asked Eryno sarcastically. She shook her head and then continued to give a breakdown on her plans to bolster Numeria's military, carefully avoiding discussing the Helige Cohort or either of her initiatives along the Egelsee and West Sellen rivers.

Still the half elf's smile didn't match his drooping eyelids or lolling head. Bliks persisted, floating several yards away from anything, partaking in the spymaster's gambit. After what she considered was half an hour, he stifled a yawn, but then gestured for the sylph to continue. She couldn't help but laugh.

An animated voice from the manor was accompanied but an occasional brief reply or interjection, which heralded Irabeth and Hex's return. The Black Sovereign nodded to his two chief advisors, "Lord Gwerm has many surprises."

"I can't imagine how he's managed to maintain such a ruse!" the paladin exclaimed, obviously in a good mood, "his staff, to the lowest hand, holed up in his safe room. They refused to abandon the house to looters but secured his valuables with them! All I've ever seen is their distain in public, even then hiding their love for that man."

"His mistresses were unexpected."

"Mistresses?" Eryno laughed, "that insufferable bore has more than one?"

"And they knew one another!" Irabeth continued, "what a scandal that would be if it got out." She then paused, her tone dropping, "not that there are many nobles left to gossip."

The travellers nodded to one another and set off again. The skirted the edge of Horgus' property, noting the destroyed woodlot that served as his back yard. From her vantage, Bliks could see another chasm cutting into a muddy depression that might have previously been a pond. Sections of the wall between the Gate district and the next plateau of New Kenabres even now broke and tumbled into this dark rift, the sound of their ruin not being matched by a crash at its unseen bottom.

Turning to the west, the wounded sky was in full view with threatening clouds ready to unleash anything but water. "I had hoped we could climb that tower," Bliks said, pointing to a mostly intact square redoubt, "to investigate another of the cultist's safe houses. But these rifts … I will go alone."

"Be swift," Hex said.

The tower was considerable in scale, with unmanned ballistae dotting its flat roof. A stain and a destroyed emplacement suggested to Bliks that not all had fled their posts. More disturbing was the disturbing glow she could see, even midday, coming from the rift that ran parallel to this curtain wall. 'Go out, have a look, get back,' she reminded herself from one of Eryno's training sessions as she turned from the rift to the devastation of New Kenabres.

Another one of the inexorably wide gouges leading to or from the central cathedral had torn through this entire neighbourhood, with rubble of collapsed buildings in its path. Nyserian Manor lay amid the debris somewhere, another sign of the Abyss' lack of direction, as the demons destroyed allies alongside victims in their blind urges. 'It's gone' she sent over the link, 'likely destroyed by one of those Vermeraks. I doubt this city will be rebuilt with fervour that established it during the First Crusade. There are even lights from the deepest rifts … whether they are a result of the demonic attack or something else, I can't say. Even if we destroy the wardstone, foil Vorlesh's plan, I have difficulty seeing a bright future for Kenabres. Continue along our planned path, I'll catch up.'

Bliks dropped down, keeping what remained of New Kenabres' wall between her and the oppressive sky. As she passed over the deep rift, she could see their next destination ahead. While the others would have to cross one of the trench like gouges, she took a more direct path to the Librarium of the Broken Black Wing.

When she had lived here fifteen years ago, she occasionally went to study at the Librarium; the Tower of Estrod was dedicated to historical records, a place for sages not an aspiring wizard like herself. Each time she entered, she'd pass under the pitch Vrock wing, preserved and tacked there, giving the place its name. She also preferred the view. From its roof she could see into the gated community of retired crusaders who had braved the Worldwound to secure questionable wealth from the remnants of Sarkoris. It was rumoured that they had walled themselves as much to protect their wealth as to stifle the screams of their night terrors.

Black Wing's tower was now absent from Kenabres' skyline. While the trench her companions were traversing passed close, the destruction of the Librarium seemed to be of a different sort entirely. There were precise cuts in the stone, slicing through walls and floors, making upper floors slide off the building to shatter on the ground below. What remained of the great hall had been pounded by either multiple Fireball spells or a Meteor Swarm, the wooden parts of the façade being turned to ash. It was an unnatural mixture of fury and precision.

Amid the ruins was a ghastly circle. Arrayed in a crude star were five corpses amid a pile of books, all burned. What made it particularly disturbing to Bliks was the scorch marks streaming away from the circle, as if something had exploded amid the conflagration. As the other travellers made their way through the broken skeleton of a building, she carefully scanned the area with Detect Magic.

"That Warped One you fought yesterday?" she said to Eryno, "I believe it was born here. This ring stinks of the kind of magic that would create one of those things." Turning to Irabeth she explained, "we fought a demon partially encased in a suit of plate mail dedicated to Iomedae. Where a crusader fell to corruption, it rose."

The paladin grimly nodded, kneeling at the edge of the circle. She began to intone Iomedae's ritual of last rites before she stopped, snatching something off the ground. Holding the leathery grey strip of flesh out for Bliks inspection she asked, "is this from that Warped One? I would know the fate of those who fall from her light."

"That," Bliks said cautiously, "is from something else. Eryno do you recognize that?" Looking over from a collapsed bookshelf, the half elf shook his head. "Hex?"

"Nargin Haruvex, the Choking Tower's basement."

"That's what I thought too. Maybe not him, I mean he didn't seem to have either an interest in the Worldwound nor the power to do this, but something like him. A Worm that Walks."

"Hey Bliks?" Eryno said as he pulled a chunk of shelf from under the rubble, "isn't this the same mark on your pack?" He held up the scorched piece of wood, a spiral engraved in its surface.

"The symbol of the Riftwardens. That might explain the ferocity of the damage! If this was a Riftwarden enclave," she pointed to the clean cut through the stone, "then that would have been caused by blackfire. Perhaps one of the Adepts took the assault on the city as a chance to strike. But perhaps this was coordinated with the demons … I had always thought they sought to harness the power of Worldwound, not become its minions."

"Are you not a Riftwarden?" Irabeth asked.

Bliks blinked, saying "no … I know of them, but I am not a member."

"Whence did you get that pack? The Riftwardens do not idly sell their wares."

"It was my mother's. My father gave it to me years ago … after she failed to return from Eagle's Rock."

Irabeth's eyes widened, "your mother died at the Eagle's Rock Massacre?"

"No," Bliks sighed, "she died when Eagle Rock fell in 4693."

"Ghowiaya?"

The winds around Bliks petered out as she settled to the ground. Her world became mute. "How do you know her name?"

"My parents died trying to retake that fortress. I have spent many nights studying it, in the hopes of one day leading the vanguard of the host that will do what they died trying. There have been few ousiders like her in the crusade. But your last name is Kelshite, is it not? Neither they nor Abasheen are known for skin as pale as yours."

"She was an outcast, a renegade from her kin. She had more in common with Djini, so she fled to Golarion at the first opportunity."

"Sorry to break up the Society of Eagle Rock Reclamation, but I can't tell how much time we've got to get into position," Eryno broke in, gesturing towards the unkind sky.

Hex nodded, "Let's go."

Through her socks and boots Bliks felt the cobblestones of Kenabres. They walked west, past Southgate Market that, while deserted, hadn't been scorched from the land as Northgate Market had. What merchants hadn't taken must have been looted, but the stalls were intact. Bliks mumbled that their planned path to the New Kenabres district would trap them between two rifts, so they steered parallel to the wall, aiming for a gouge that had broken through that curtain wall.

She slipped while they were climbing down, scraping her hands through her gloves. Biting her lip, she ignored the pain, folding her hands into her pockets as they hurried north along the trench that led towards where the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell had stood. Not wanting to attract more demonic attention they turned towards a tower similar to the one Bliks had scouted earlier. Eryno took the lead, securing an Autograpnel at it's ragged top so the others could take turns ascending. From the pile of rubble that had been its upper floors, they found a stair and made their way into the Ring district.

Truestone Park had been fouled by the demons, its pond now glistening with oil or worse. 'Hezrou demons' Bliks thought but tried to hold her breath against its stench. Those trees that hadn't been torn down were even now twisting and writhing slowly in an unfelt wind. Furhter in, Alodae Amphitheatre looked intact but a row of ravaged corpses impaled on crude spikes suggested it was providing a new kind of entertainment.

Under Eryno's direction they bypassed the few demons they spied, who seemed more intent on systematically smashing windows or defecating on any open surface. Irabeth produced a set of keys that let them cut through another tower into the highest plateau, the district of Old Kenabres. While the tower's twin had been utterly consumed by a rift, they found each floor intact until they reached the roof, so they could see when their allies signalled the attack had begun.

Then it would be a short scramble to the Grey Garrison and the wardstone.

"Alone at last. Such a sad story, your mother. I killed mine."


	14. Gold in Transformation

"You mean murdered."

"She begged me. There were demons everywhere, flaying or desecrating the living bodies of her neighbours. Better at my hands than theirs."

"Didn't want another demon to have her soul?"

"Clever wizard! Alright, better to kill her myself than give anyone leverage."

"I'm sure it was quick, painless."

"Come now, even you don't believe that. Vial after vial of bottled Agony. Sometimes they come to me in dreams, those rending screams; I haven't found anything quite like it. And I've looked for a long time."

Bliks dug her fingers into the stone of the tower, her eyes watering as she stared into the setting of the Worldwound bloated sun. It was the same feminine voice from before, from Irabeth's house, nestling in beside her ear like a reclining lover. The thought made her retch.

Still she stood away from her travelling companions, mindful not to let any Scrying see more than just her, and far enough that their exchanged whispers were not overheard. The sagging of her mood lingered on, keeping her from summoning the winds that kept her company, that held her aloft.

"Areelu Vorlesh."

"Please, call me Areelu. Bliks is it?"

"Bliksemani Volgeling, witch."

"Don't they call you that too? The Androffan Witch of Numeria? Besides I'm far more than just a witch now."

"What do you want?"

"To talk my dear! It's refreshing to talk to an esteemed colleague."

"You tried to Dominate me." Bliks gritted her teeth at the memory.

"And you resisted, so no harm done! How could I truly know I was in such company without an incy, wincy, little test? But you didn't pass on your own, did you? That Shadow Demon was right, wasn't it?"

"My mind, my soul is my own."

"Surely you jest!"

"I am not in the habit of trading gibes with the likes of you."

"Such hostility! But I suppose it's understandable, as I succeeded where you failed."

"What?!"

"I defeated my enemies. Destroyed them. Them and the nation that birthed them. Ground it into a gruel and fed it to Lord Deskari's horde. Sadly, too few knew it was me." The voice seemed to pout.

"You haven't defeated the Crusade."

"The Crusade? They oppose me, but I have no enmity towards them. Oh no, my enemies died with Sarkoris. You, all arcane spellcasters come to think of it, should thank me."

"Thank you … thank you? You're a monster who allies herself with demons!"

"Come now, be reasonable! How long did that prison, Threshold, stand? Where was Cayden Cailean? Arshea? Taraksun? Even Desna? Gods all, and yet none raised a finger at our imprisonment. Only Lord Deskari heard my pleas for freedom. Only he had the strength to break my bonds. And for what was I imprisoned? Not magic alone, as those snide druids would flaunt their powers to awe those Kellid simpletons, but arcane magic, magic they couldn't use, didn't trust, but wanted to yoke like any beast of the field."

"You say I have not defeated my enemies, but the Technic League has been crushed, the tribes that opposed us in the Sovereignty Succession have been driven back, and I didn't need to destroy Numeria to do it!"

"I suppose you think I should have focused on the Acolytes of the Green Faith? A weed does not die if you cut off its bloom. Tear the root from the ground. Scour the earth. That is why I rest easy at night when you toss and turn. Mark my words, the Kelllids will turn on you, abandon your reforms, smash your slaves. They are an obstinate people whose base nature sullies everything they touch."

"Is this the fate you wished to have? For your name to be cursed, for the blood of millions on your hands?"

"Better to be cursed and remembered then thanked and forgotten. When you drove your mechanical Androffan slaves along the Dagger and Seven Tears rivers, wiping out encampment after encampment of Blood Gars, did you not create fanatics who still curse your name? When word got back to Starfall, were not the whispers behind your back now tinged with respect born of your power?"

"They are not my slaves Areelu! The League may have treated them as such, but under our rule, they are free."

The voice chuckled, "thank you for being so familiar, Bliks."

Beneath newly formed threatening clouds a light bloomed. The signal. Somewhere in the Gate District Marilictor Volso was discarding the now useless flare gun and locking his horrific helm in place. Seconds later a rising shout announced the start of the assault. Bliks grinned and waved to the air, casting Mind Blank, cutting Areelu' Scrying off.

Eryno, still pointing to the drifting red flare, turned towards the hatch that would lead them down the tower and out into Old Kenabres when Hex caught his shoulder. "Wait." Looking first to his Sovereign's hand and then face, Eryno wrinkled his brow then looked down.

"But Hex, the longer we wait, the more will die. Wasn't surprise the plan?"

"My Crusaders will do their duty, even if it means death friend. The plan was to clear a path to the Gray Garrison. So they must be drawn out and there's nothing better to draw out the demons than moral deaths," Irabeth explained. "If you wish, you can join me in prayer, for those who have fallen and those who will."

Bliks walked to the others, returning Hex's nod. About her companions she set the components she would need, marked out the space with a wide circle of runes, focusing her thoughts on the spells she had prepared hours earlier, drawing them out so only a word would finish their incantation. All the while Irabeth and Eryno knelt, hands clasped over the hilt of Radiance, its golden blade shimmering in the failing light of day.

"I will have faith in the Inheritor. I will channel her strength through my body."  
"I will shine in her legion. I am the first into battle, and the last to leave it."  
"I will never abandon a companion, though I will honor sacrifice freely given.  
"I will not be taken prisoner by my free will. I will suffer death before dishonor."

Hex slipped on a pair of Green keyed VeeMod Goggles his back to the two praying warriors. From their tower they had a clear line of sight to what remained of Clydwell plaza and the Gray Garrison on its western edge. A great rift had consumed not just the Cathedral but also many of the buildings bordering the plaza and those that it had not, demons had torn to pieces. Little was intact in Old Kenabres.

The Gray Garrison itself was a small building that could have been mistaken for a manor house in any other setting. It also had the look of a church with an offset nave poking through the roof, all stone construction and not a window in sight. Even the roof was stone, mostly flat but where the third floor rose, peaked across its length. No demons were visible.

And so they waited.

The injured sun dipped below the horizon and the brightest lights in the sky started to appear. Bliks hesitated in calling these points of lights stars, as she did not recognize the shifting constellations and smears. The stagnant air reminded her more of being inside than standing on the tallest remaining tower in the city.

"Movement."

Hex's word broke Irabeth and Eryno's repeated affirmations. Irabeth drew out a telescope while Eryno took the VeeMod Goggles and worked quickly. "I count … five dozen humans? And a dozen dogs and demons."

"Probably tiefling and human cultists," Irabeth added.

"There's a squabble and … one less cultist. I'd guess half the group is heading out?"

Hex turned to Bliks, "Cylex?"

She held up a finger, casting off the spells she had prepared and then said "Cylex. Eryno, are you ready to have some fun?"

Outside the disgusting human building the guards milled about as one of them continued to rifle through the belongings of the one who had questioned Faxon's orders. Their bodies moved jerkily, as if they had forgotten how to walk properly, while their bloated limbs strained their clothes, skin taut like a drum. Telepathically they shared lewd humour or complaints about being forced outside. Between them they wore no armour but carried primitive, wicked pole arms.

From the shattered road their cultist allies had marshalled out came a wisp of a figure. One of their number barked something in Abyssal at the figure that could be interpreted in half a dozen ways but was then silenced when it got jabbed with a scythe. Waddling to the fore was a man with thinning hair and a heavy horseshoe moustache, both silver but speckled with blood. A single boot was crammed on a bulging foot, while he wore a red and gold cape over torn matching finery.

"Prelate Hulrun!" the waif called out.

"Yes my child? Have you come to unburden your sins?" the obese man replied, his voice thick like his cheeks were packed with food.

"I worry for your health, you seem to have gained a few inches."

"Fear not! I have longed for this day, when I could grow fat on the gifts of Desakri. Perhaps you have come instead to turn yourself over to him as well?"

"First I need to know something."

"What is it my child?"

"Of all the elemental powers, which do you fear the most?"

"Rovagug's bolts from the sky, with their peals and crashing."

Bliks nodded and from her fingertip a bolt of lightning jumped the space between them, cutting through the man and a handful of his compatriots behind him. He just laughed as his scorched skin cracked and split, shedding to the ground in strips. Freeing itself from those remains the four tailed worm like creature continued to deeply chortle like a frog.

"Only a fool tries to use that on a child of the Outer Rifts. Now I will wear your skin!"

Tilting her head Bliks fired off a second spell and now lightning stretched along the front lines of the assembled Vermleks which was matched again by uproarious laughter by unharmed demons. The blocks of Cylex secreted into their lines by an Invisible Eryno, felt the charge pass and added their roars to the laughter. As the Androffan explosives detonated sending bodies and parts of bodies flying in every direction.

From the shell of a nearby building the other three travellers rushed down the street to join their wizard. Eryno carried the critical Rod of Cancellation strapped to the inside edge of his shield, letting Irabeth take the lead to the door. From a side pouch Bliks pulled a pair of Androffan Grippers and slipped the head into the gap between the doors after confirming they were locked.

"Sorry, I know it's a museum," she said as she reversed their action, snapping the lock free.

As they charged in, they quickly surveyed the foyer. Its mural had been defaced with blood and feces, but the clattering of arms and raised voices in Abyssal from a side room was quickly silenced after Eryno loosed a pair of Concussion Grenades. The debris from the room was caught up in the travellers' Fickle Winds spell.

"Here, through the shrine," Irabeth led.

As they raced through the next room, she staggered at the sight of the altar covered in blood, but quickly recovered, "Iomedae will be avenged for this insult." With a snarl she slammed her heel against the door to the stairwell and it cracked open. The spindly and pathetic Dretches stationed there looked up from their game in time for Radiance to end their lives.

A red skinned horned man blocked the top of the stairs, shouting. Bliks grabbed Irabeth's shoulder before she stormed up, leaving Eryno and Hex to their bloody work. The retort of Hex's revolvers added to the ringing from the earlier grenades but body after body tumbled down the stairs, Eryno shoving them out of the way as he steadily made his own ascent. Mounting the blood slick stairs after them, Irabeth crossed the hall and tried kicking the door there. Following her and then peering around a corner, Bliks saw a handful of cultists hastily stuffing sheaves of parchment into a small chest. Spreading her fingers, Magic Missiles struck them dead.

A crash signalled Irabeth's success and as they entered the room Bliks was thankful for the Fickle Winds in place of her usual breeze, as she was sure the smell would have otherwise made her gag. A handful of bloodstained white robed zombies stood in a circle, the poor men having had their bellies cut open to fill the basin they surrounded. Again Radiance blazed in Irabeth's hand, ending their defilement.

Sealing the door behind them with a Hold Portal, Bliks quickly followed the others mounting the final set of stairs. This vestibule had mirrored alcoves housing bent and broken armour, previously held in pristine honour. The room stank of unwashed bodies and the fine carpet was scuffed and burnt in places.

Ahead was the reliquary room, where captured cultists had revealed under Charm Person that entry was punished by death. In council this, combined with the concentration of demonic forces at the Gray Garrison, was the agreed upon hiding place of what might remain of the Kenabres wardstone.

Its door swung open and a bitterly sultry voice called out, "come in my honoured guests!"

'Areelu Vorlesh' Bliks sent to the others who caught her eye and nodded. Irabeth again led the group in, all eyes scanning for traps or concealed opponents.

Sitting across from the door was a ravishing beauty. She lounged in a chair, one of her finely painted nails playing with a tassel that drooped between her nearly exposed breasts while the other waved cordially. Her red dress clung to her form with a wide cut out exposing much of her chest, blending from a near sheen at her shoulders to a black flame pattern at her bare feet. When a sinuous tail wrapped itself around her tattooed legs, her other alien features suddenly became clear. Horns curved back from her forehead and behind the chair rustled a pair of leathery wings.

Her form silhouetted a great egg shaped cage, in which floated a lightly glowing spire of cracked stone. Above the cage floated a foot long perfectly smooth purple cone of crystal, it's point down towards the remnants of the wardstone behind the bars.

Standing, the succubus bowed, her eyes not straying from the drawn weapons of the travellers. "Your majesty! Had I known I would be welcoming such a prestigious guest, I would have prepared a better welcome." She fixed her gaze on Bliks, "your Magister failed to announce your presence."

After a silent beat she smiled, tilting her head and continued, "well Bliks? Will you not introduce us?"

"I am not your servant, Areelu."

"But those in my service do find it ever so … pleasurable. And I would say I too would find pleasure in you, Eryno. Your … physique is remarkable."

Irabeth stepped forward, levelling Radiance at the woman, "step aside, foul demon, and you may be spared this day. Refuse and you will be sent screaming to your just reward."

"Tut tut Irabeth. I speak with those beyond your station." Languidly she reached out a finger, resting it atop Radiance's golden blade, her flesh searing under its holy power. Another broad smile without a twitch of pain spread across the demon's face. "You are also beyond your depth."

"Submit Areelu." Hex said, his voice level and hard.

Bringing her seared fingertip up to her mouth, she licked the already regenerating wound then tapped her lips. "I think not," and in a flurry of motion, flew up and away from the travellers.

Bliks knew the space was too small for her to use her hardest hitting spells, but instead reached out to end the conflict quickly. Greater Possession pressed her mind against Areelu's and for a moment time seemed to freeze, their wills striving for dominance. She felt the mental walls crumble only to find herself slipping past her target and snapping back to her own vision, her spell resisted.

Then the air seemed to be squeezed out of her chest. Her ribs cried out and she saw her companions similarly convulsing in pain. Radiance dimmed as it tumbled out of Irabeth's hands, clattering to the stone followed shortly by the sharp crack of the paladin's armour clad knees as she clutched at her throat.

The retort of Hex's revolvers ended the pain as they tore through Areelu's wings, bringing her down on the dais just in front of the cage. Irabeth remained curled on the ground. With a snap of finely manicured fingers the air before the demon rippled and screeched open. From this maw stepped a great pig faced giant, ridiculously small wings sprouting from its back countered by a roar and heavily muscled limbs ending in stubby fingers and toes. A Nalfeshnee, one of the guardians of the Abyss itself.

With a cry, Eryno dashed forward, cutting into the great monster's flank, ichor staining the floor. A sickly glow spread across the creature's body as it clumsily swung at the warrior it dwarfed.

Again Bliks felt the air around her change, but this time instead of crushing her lungs, it felt like great webs were trying to hold her limbs in place. She knew this to be a deception, that Hold spells played with the mind, and she threw off its influence much to the screams of frustration from Areelu.

The Nalfeshnee snorted as its eyes flashed for a moment and Bliks could see Eryno clearly fighting against some new force in the air. Still with a sharp stroke he brought his blade up and caught the giant's wrist, its hand landing beside Irabeth's inert form.

A ray arced between Areelu and Hex and he began firing wild, sending 'Blinded' Seeing the battle beginning to turn, Bliks brought her wrists together, her cupped fingers firing sphere after sphere of fire that engulfed both demons. Then the glow on the Nalfeshnee's skin bloomed across the room, almost blinding her as well but leaving her stomach churning as her vision distorted.

Shaking her head clear, Bliks saw Areelu and the Nalfeshnee barely singed by her Meteor Swarm. Grinding her teeth she drew a deep breath, letting it out in a blast of sound, sending the Nalfeshnee reeling while Areelu covered her ears, her own scream lost in Bliks' thundering Greater Shout. Over the link she heard 'Up up. Stop. Right. Stop,' as Eryno sent the blinded Hex directions on where to continue his fusillade.

Those bullets impacted the Nalfeshnee as it steadied itself, throwing its focus off as it tried to bring another of its spells to bear on Bliks. "You have earned my wrath, mortals!" Areelu screamed, brandishing a fist sized gem at Eryno.

In a eyeblink Eryno was gone. His equipment collapsed in on themselves.

Her eyes widening, Bliks stepped back, leaving Hex in the fore as he continued to fire blindly into the bulk of the giant demon. She stammered, fumbling with her components, and then felt the wall behind her stop her unconscious retreat. Then she saw Areelu bringing together a powerful spell and tried to throw up a shield to protect herself and Hex.

But he was in front of the Wall of Suppression. His skin sucked around his bones as his muscles lost mass. Parched lips tried to speak, but with a tongue a solid mass, nothing but a wheeze came out. Jerkily he continued to reflexively pull the trigger on his revolver, empty clicking replacing its usual roar, the reloads in the other hand scattering at his feet. Then the Nalfeshnee reached out a meaty paw of a hand and lightning arced from the ceiling through Hex's body.

The corpse of the Black Sovereign crumpled in a smoking pile of scorched, dehydrated flesh and bones.

Crisscrossing her legs as she walked, Areelu sashayed through the intangible wall Bliks had thrown up. With a seductive smile, she reached out and held a hand over the wizard's mouth. Regaining her senses, Bliks pawed at the muzzling hand but floundered against the succubus' grip.

"Don't worry, I've done this dozens of times before," Areelu soothed before she snapped Bliks' neck.

The struggling hands lost their life and fell to numb sides. Areelu leaned in, kissing the tears rolling down Bliks' cheeks.

"Your friends, they were the true threat. You? Too full of doubt. Too distracted by the future. You could have prepared for this fight properly, but you didn't. Deep down, you really didn't want to. Don't worry love, once I learn your secrets, you'll come to my embrace on your own."

Effortlessly Areelu carried Bliks by the neck to where Eryno's gear was piled. Her tail snaked through the jumble, pulling out the Rod of Cancellation, its green gem still glinting atop its silver length. "You were going to destroy the wardstone? Clever wizard! I knew you'd at least try to steal it back, but destroy it? How positively refreshing to see someone embrace the path of the Abyss."

"And what a waste it would have been. I have spent years searching for just the right Nahyndrian crystal. That brute Khorramzadeh thought the sliver I gave him could destroy it. So many forget the Abyss isn't about simple annihilation, that's the point of the Void. Oh no, it is about all kinds of destruction, including the destruction of rebirth. All those arrogant Crusaders? They're about to start a new campaign, this time in Deskari's service."

"This is why I spared you … who else could appreciate my work?"

'Technician Volegling, this is-'

'Broken Arrow, immediate suppression, danger close, authorization Salometa, out.'

The twin engines of the Myrmidons blazed as they shot ahead of the lumbering Annihilator as it too lifted into the sky on a plume of white fire. Rockets breached the air, detonating on the stone tower.

Dropping Bliks' limp body, Areelu spat as the room shook around her. Broken masonry showered down on them. "Damned Ulkreth, there is little left in this city to smash, this is my hour!"

A Vrock Teleported beside one of the robots, a screeching vulture with human arms, only to be deftly sidestepped. Another volley of rockets again smashed the tower.

The Nalfeshnee shouted something, throwing itself over the succubus as a massive chunk of ceiling crashed on its back.

The other robot fell, caught in the grip of a four armed Vrolikai, frantic demonic stabs met with quantum lashes. Behind them, the ponderous Annihilator cleared its path with the relentless growl of its chain guns. The demonic screams were joined by an ever increasing hum.

For a moment the Annihilator and the Grey Garrison's tower were linked by an iridescent light.

Then the weakened roof and the walls of the tower crumbled and blew away like ash.

From where Bliks's head lolled she could see the hulking body of the Nalfeshnee still shielding Areelu. Under that tangle a silver rod topped with a green gem rolled free, coming to rest between the wizard and the wardstone's cage.

A gentle breeze stirred the debris in the room. At its centre lay the immobile body of Bliksemani Volgeling, her eyes focused intensely on the Rod of Cancellation. The breeze stiffened, howling into a gale, into the indescribable roar of a tornado. Shards of rock tore at the flesh of the demons and lightning crackled between the blinding winds and the remains of the tower.

The rod rattled under this force, then lifted like a spear being hefted by unseen hands. With wild eyes, Areelu reached past her summoned demon, cloth and skin ripping as she strained forward, her screams lost to the storm.

Then in a sudden rush the winds threw the rod forward into Kenabres' wardstone.

Light.

Brilliant and soothing.

A voice, then a duet, then a choir, singing a timeless hymn.

The air filled with golden razors, billowing out against the storm, each seemingly moving slowly until Bliks saw pebbles lazily falling all about her, barely touched by gravity's pull. She felt energy piercing through her face in a glorious rush, saw it slashing through her clothes, riddling her body with glowing scars. Then the wounds sowed themselves shut, leaving behind no trace of their passage, and she could feel her legs again.

She stood, seeing the remains of the wardstone continue their outwards path. Each was a tiny comet of holy light, streaking out from the now ruined cage. Areelu was pinned by the Nalfeshnee, their bodies now tied together by long, brilliant nails. As Bliks watched the two seemed less and less separate, until there was a seamless whole. The body was then limbed in an arcing black and red fire, and was gone.

"My most humble apology that that hadst to befall thee. Thither wast nay other way." The voice was powerful. Booming. Everywhere. The dialect was an ancient form of Taldane.

"Our interference hath dire consequences. But knoweth yond thee doth not travel high-lone, for we art with thee."

Within the blaze of light that had been the wardstone, Bliks could see figures coming into focus. Most prominent was a scarred woman clad in polished plate. To her left was a powerfully built dwarf leaning on a massive warhammer. To her right was a bronze angel, her hair a flowing flame. Others crowded in until all she saw was a great host, stretching back into infinity.

"Thy companions wilt not share thy burden, they shall see only light and life."

The voice was coming from the scarred woman, Bliks was sure of that now. Iomedae, Aroden's herald, The Inheritor. Goddess of righteous valour.

"But if it be true that thou can carryeth it, the reward shall beest most wondrous."

Rays of light splayed across the room, first focusing on Irabeth's suffocated form, then on Hex's desicated body, and finally on the gem that trapped Eryno's soul. Each began to glow and heal and finally stand as if untouched by the combat that had just finished. Their chests puffed, their backs straight, Bliks saw in them a new resolve, their eyes filled with understanding. Yet they stood as still and solid as statues.

"Knoweth yond thee hast did save many from a horrible fate. And while thy descent into darkness shall beest long, thither shall beest redemption."

"Finally doth not taketh the paths hath given, but findeth thy own. While your enemies are many, your allies are greater. Farewell!"

Only then did the broken stones and dust of the tower fall, the world no longer paused.

"Are you guys alright?" she said tentatively testing the silence.

Hex quickly inspected his body, shrugged and nodded. "What a rush!" Eryno exclaimed, drawing their attention. "Where'd those demons go? Did we win?"

"I'm not sure and yes, we won. The wardstone has been destroyed."

"Attend friends," Irabeth interrupted, "to the north."

On the horizon a memory seemed to replay. For a moment Bliks was back there, standing on the highest peak of Silvermount, somewhere above the Divinity's Primary Engineering deck. Again she saw a golden spike drive down from the heavens, but then she saw another, and yet another. She swung around and saw the same to the south. All along the border holy light was breaking through the darkness and corruption.

"By the Whisperer …" Bliks gasped.

"What's going on?" Eryno asked.

"The wardstones." Hex said. "All of them."

This time when the darkness recoiled, it did not return. A wave of blistering gold rolled towards Kenabres from north and south, and where they could spot the silhouettes of demons, the fiends were caught up in it and torn asunder. Bliks features twitched and her hung mouth agape, while the wave stormed up the terraces of the city, converging on the Gray Garrison.

Its power was grand and terrible, molten silver and gold reaching out. Bliks looked to where the wardstone had exploded expecting the streams to meet there, wishing to see this grand act of pure creation.

Then she looked down and found herself skewered by them.

Every muscle clenched, her fingers splaying open, her artificial hair stretching in all directions, as she lifted off the ground. Painlessly it burnt through her. Silently she cried out. Looking down, her skin was not her own, as her tattoo like markings darkened into sharp contrast against her blinding flesh. And all around her, her breeze was a river of stars.

Then her mind was elsewhere. Mists and clouds of the purest pearl. The air was clean and clear, and she took it in deeply, and even though she knew her body was still floating above the ruined tower of the Gray Garrison, it was a refreshing breath. The beat of wings made her turn.

Beside her stood a figure that was hauntingly familiar but unlike any she had ever met. The woman had great multicoloured wings like those of a tropical bird sprouting from her back, but skin like molten rock. A crown of flowing black hair trailed down her back over finely woven silver armour festooned with blue butterflies. Even from behind, Bliks could see that her physique was finely toned with powerful muscles alongside alluring curves. The figure started, turning. Impossibly Bliks felt her throat constrict.

Two kind brown eyes glittered under long black bangs. Her cheeks each sported the glittering outline of a blue butterfly wing.

"Dreams in the Dark?"

The beauty smiled, "Yes, my Little Breeze."

"I'm not really here, am I?"

"No. Nor am I. This," Dreams gestured to herself with a curtsey, "is not my body as it is, but as I wish it could be. Desna has blessed me, letting me see again and again the possibility of redemption. But you. You've grown." She shook her head, smiling, "not this dream self, I know you as you are. Your body is a wonder, you dance so well. Until now, I wasn't sure it was truly you."

"That … was you? Last night? You wrote that note?"

"Yes."

"Your note implied you were trapped in the Worldwound … it's been years, Dreams, why …"

"… can't I leave? This is the body I wish I had, but not the body I have. My soul …" she began to weep, "… my body reflects my soul, and my soul is not pure enough." As the tears slid down her face a pair of horns grew from her forehead. The lava that was her skin hardened into alabaster as the feathers fell from her wings, revealing the crimson leather of bat wings. Her hair fell out in clumps until it was the short almost military cut that Bliks remembered from years ago. And what started as bloodshot eyes from tears spread until the orbs became a solid red.

Bliks paused for a moment to take in Dreams' new form, then took the weeping succubus into her arms. When their foreheads touched, she could feel the horns press into her skin. A strength rose in Bliks. A clear sense of purpose. Of direction. It flowed between the women, and Bliks could feel the horns melt as Dreams' skin became molten once again.

"Yes," Dreams breathed, "of course. Hope. Hope freed me from Vhane's prison. As I am in you, you are in me. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

In a blink the mist was gone, replaced by the cool open air of Kenabres. There she floated, her skin still glowing like a torch, when the cheers from the city rose. The demons were gone. Blasted in a moment of holy energy.

But one demon could not leave Bliks. To the north. There. There was a demon that wished to be an angel.


End file.
